A Day in My Shoes

This is my life...

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1. In the Beginning

 

I rubbed the small scar on my left wrist and opened the doors of my new school. High school, freshmen year. It seemed as if only a few months ago, I arrived back in my hometown of La Grande after a four year stay in Bend. It reality, it had been almost two years. The pain and anxiety were still there, like an uncurable disease. The doors opened and my anxiety took over, screaming at me to turn and run. Instead, I shoved it down and continued to my locker, which I had located the previous day on orientation day. I walked into the area where the freshmen's lockers were, a.k.a the freshmen pit. I shoved my backpack in my locker and took only my binder. Then, following a tradition I had, slammed the locker with all of my strength, not that there was that much. I had apparently lost 10 pounds over the summer, yet I still was pretty large. I wouldn't say I was overly fat but I was far from average. I then located my "group" made up of the anime nerds and LGBTQ+ people from my middle school. 
"I feel like shit today," I groaned, sitting down. 
"Same here man," One of my best friends, Laura said. Laura was my best friend for a few reasons. One, we had some stuff in common, two she was a great listener. She listened to me and never questioned my feelings or anything. She just listened. And I was grateful, so very grateful. 
"Brother!" I heard from behind me, instantly I knew who it was, it was my other best friend, Alina. She was Laura's girlfriend. There was an ongoing joke that I was her adopted brother because we looked like each other, although she was Mexican and I was Native American. We talked a bit about our schedules and our summers. At 9:15 the bell rang and we headed to class. I headed to Intro to Earth Science. 
"Hey, Trenton!" My friend, Connor, exclaimed as I walked in. I walked over and sat next to him. We chatted for the remainder of the passing period. When the bell rang, class began. We learned a bit more about the teacher and where everything was, along with some other things. The bell rang and I headed to my French class. I already knew that my final best friend was there. Her name was Ashley, she was hilarious, and we clicked. Despite us living polar opposite lives. Also in the class was Connor, and the only other gay kid in the entire freshmen class, Adam. Again, it was the same, repetitive first day if school things we'd gone through since kindergarten. The day continued on until the final bell rang and we headed home. Almost everyday I walked home a portion with Laura. That's when we'd talk about our feelings. 
"...and my entire life fell apart in 3 seconds." I finished, the sun shone and it was pretty warm outside. 
"Damn. I'm sorry man." Laura replied. We reached our parting point, where she would turn left and I would continue on the same street.
"Things are gonna be great this year." I told myself. I have never been more wrong in my entire life. 
A year and a half ago in Redmond, Oregon...
"Don't do it Trenton. It's not good for you." A girl told me, I was holding the blade of a pair of scissors and we were standing at the far edge of the school's field. 
"It's fine. I will be okay." I replied, holding the blade closer to my wrist.
"What if you're dad finds out?" She asked.
"Who cares? I can hide it anyway." I said, then I pulled the blade across my wrist and watched the blood seep out. It was the best thing I have ever felt, like all the pain was escaping through my wrist and leaving me free.  A boy walked up to the trees we were standing under.
"You gotta do it hard and fast." He said. 
"I don't want a massive, obvious scar." I told him, the bell rang and we headed back. He took the blade and cut his own wrist, making a much deeper cut. 
The feeling of relief lasted only for a little while. So I did it again. And a few different times over the next few days. Eventually, after several marks were on my wrist, I had realized something incredibly important. I was addicted. So, on my walk home from school that day I threw the scissors as hard as I could into the bushes, and left. 
A week or so went by when I was called into the counselors office. 
"So, we've gotten reports of talk about you cutting your wrist." She said, she had blonde hair and was wearing a simple T-shirt. 
"Okay." I replied, already knowing what was going to happen. 
"Is this true?" She asked. 
"I mean I have this," I told her, showing her the scratch, "it was from forever ago"
"Hmm, it looks pretty recent. What did you use?" She asked. My mind began pulling things from my memories and pieced together a nice lie. 
"Well, I still have to call your dad." She said. I began panicking.
"He already knows about it." I said, she continued to pick up her phone. 
"Still, its my job to report it." She said. Then she proceeded to call my dad and tell him. 
"Yeah, he says its old but it looks pretty recent." I heard. 
After a blurr of events, I was sitting at home with my dad's friend. Another thing, we were basically homeless. I sat there for hours until my dad arrived home. 
"Show me," he said, clearly pissed. I showed him the scratches. "Gimme your shoelaces and your belt. Don't put your hands in your pockets and you're not allowed to be alone unless you're going to the bathroom, or changing your clothes." He then demanded.
"W-why?" I stammered. 
"You're on suicide watch." He replied.
The sad part is the he didn't seem pissed that I cut, he seemed pissed that the school knew,but hey, that's my fucked up life.

 

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