So right now it’s actually Monday night, but I already posted Monday’s sooooo.....
I feel super nervous for tomorrow. It’s school again, and gym class. First hour. We have to wear our gym shirts or we get points off, and that is not happening to me. Gym shirts are (reasonably) short sleeved. And for the first time ever there are cute on my arm and my whole inner circle of my friend group also have gym first hour. Velvet and Bee have swimming, and I don’t, so I MIGHT be able to avoid them in the locker room, but probably not. Then my class, which Asskiss is in, joins another class, which Coke is in, and we jog around the gym 3 times. The three of us usually stick together for that. So basically I’m screwed. And because of the Sunday post, you may know Velvet probably knows I cut, and may talk to me about it, or ask to see, if they don’t in the locker room. Oh I’m fucked oh no. Why? I just needed an outlet! Now I’m going to get attention, and everyone is going to be concerned and oh no. Coke won’t take this well.
It is Tuesday morning now. I came up with a solution. The cuts are only about a centimeter long each, and there are only four, so I put a bandaid over them. I colored it rainbow. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them it’s a price sticker. Idk if I can pull it off though. Also, I keep having dreams where my loved ones go insane. I wonder what that means.
Tuesday night. No one commented on the rainbow bandaid. I almost completely got away with it. But then lunch. Coke told me Green Day cut themselves. Later, they showed me their arm. It had a bunch of really shallow scratches and the word love scratched into their arm. I told them I thought of writing help, but I only went with four lines. I showed them my cuts which seemed really deep and red and has in comparison, though smaller. This was when Coke wasn’t around. But before that. Green Day said: My sweater has blood on it. I returned with: My arm has blood on it. Coke was talking to Asskiss, but he must have heard me. He turned to me, an expression like a dog on alert with it’s ears pricked up. Alarmed, fearful, concerned. “What? Why?” He demanded. I felt bad lying directly, but I couldn’t answer truthfully. It would brake him. I’m supposed to be the same one of the group. Obviously I’m not though. So I started singing its raining tacos, but with ketchup. I guess he thought that was answer enough, and turned back to Asskiss. I don’t know if he suspects.
My prose went well. I just got back from it.
Want to hear some coping jokes Coke told me? Hope so!
Coke: Hey guess what? I found out I’m not depressed!
Me: Really?
Coke: Yeah, I have bipolar!
I responded to this one with: Me too! His face turned thoughtful, and then he agreed with me! I probably do though. I think. Symptoms match up. Annnnyyyyways…
Coke: I found out I don’t have schizophrenia!
Me: Really?
Coke: Yeah! I have anxiety induced hallucinations and other disorders that cause dilutions!
Hahahahahahahaha sorry. None of these are funny. I’m sorry I don’t have time to write more tonight. I’ll be sure to post again tomorrow!
-Amora
P.S. Thanks for reading!
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