This is a lot for a kid
Sometimes I am very aware that I’m mentally ill, and I make absolutely no sense, like ever. In my head, nothing makes sense. Maybe it will be when I turn 18, or I will kill myself before then. Honestly, I don’t give a shit, because we all die in the end.
My name is Henry Gates. I make a lot of things up in my head and scold myself for it. I like to draw, listen to music, and sleep. I’m going to kill myself someday, maybe it’s just me, but that’s just fine with me.
I have one true friend, whose name is Charlie. I don’t really know if he’s real or not. I hope he is real; he’s the nicest person I have ever met.
I had to stop my train of thought and get on the bus with my sister. My sister, Alburn Gates, is 5 years younger than me, she has dark, not black, but not brown, hair. She has brown eyes that look tired 24/7. I think it’s because she is. She might need mental help. I started to giggle in my head. It’s funny because it’s true. When I think about it, my sister and I are nothing alike, but we have only two things in common. We are both mentally ill, and our parents neglect us but, I don’t care. Maybe my sister does, I would never know, she never tells me anything anymore.
“Goodbye, Henry, I love you.” She says this, walking out of the bus and into middle school. About 40 seconds later, I get out and walk to the high school. I’m in the 11th grade with my three friends. Their names are Charlie, Davina, and Ace. They are probably my only friends at the moment. Charlie is like a black cat—mysterious but kind. He has dark green eyes and black curly hair, and he always wears plaid shirts and jeans. Davina is the nicest person. She has long brown hair, and her eyes are very bright blue, but she always wears leggings or jeans with a purple shirt of some kind, my sweet, pure Ace. They are always reading books. They have faded orange-yellow hair and gray and dull eyes. I love them with all my heart. They are like family.
I walk into class. Nobody’s there yet. Mr. Cruckley told me to sit down. I then walked to my seat, sat down and just put my head down on the desk and tried to focus. I don’t remember how long I was just staring at my desk, but it was long enough for the bell to ring that I didn’t even notice. “Henry, I would like to talk to you,” Mr. Cruckley says. I walked over to his desk and just stood there for a second. “ Henry, you’re going to move classes tomorrow,” he says.
“Why?” I ask.
“I don’t think you fit in this class, you will be moving, Mr. Year Woods,” he says kindly.
“Ok, Goodbye, Mr. Cruckley.”
I walked out of his classroom and out of the school. I got on the bus and sat next to my sister. And just kind of zoned out. “Are you okay?”
Alburn asked.
“Yes, I’m fine, are you?” I ask in the most monotone voice, ”Yeah, I’m fine.” She says.
We get off the bus and walk home.
Our house is not that far from the rest stop, so it was a pretty short walk there. My house is a two-story house, and it has a black gate around the yard. I walked through the gate with my sister and went inside, and I sat down on the couch and fell asleep on the couch. My sister threw a pillow at me and told me to get up. I shielded my eyes closed and just hoped I would die, never wake up and just be able to go to nothingness. Honestly, I was praying I would never wake up. I walk back up the stairs and go to my room. I take my shirt off and look at all the scars and scabs on my body. Just thinking about how disgusting I look. I sighed, grabbing a long-sleeved hoodie and slipping it on my back. Think how in the hell I’m going to survive this year.
The old me would have been so disgusted with myself. I think he would hate how I turned out. I promised that I would be fine and protect my sister. Protect her from this shitty world because she is the nicest person (I sometimes mean she can be an asshole, but I don’t care because I am too). I mean, we are siblings, we are supposed to bully each other. We still care for one another, but after what happened on Christmas 8 years ago with my mother, she slit her wrists after we opened our presents, and we were just eating breakfast. Honestly, everything changed after that, she never let us even visit her. My mom, Vickey Gates, is a neurosurgeon. She is always too busy to even acknowledge her children. I wanted to become a surgeon just like my mom, but I never, and I mean never, wanted to be like her. Just because my mom is an impulsive asshole who doesn’t care for my mental or physical health. She only cared when I went to the hospital, but she just wanted an excuse not to have to go to work. But when I was in the hospital, she called me a disappointment because I just wanted to be free from this shitty world. Just so I would never have to face people ever again and never live like it’s the last time I will ever see them ever again. My mom has never cared about whether she ever wanted kids, she just wanted us, so it looks good on her resume. I got up to my room just so I could focus on anything but Lexie. Right now, it’s just so hard to think about the person who is supposed to take care of me for the rest of my life. But I think she forgot her only son, and I’m starting to think that she has just forgotten that I’m her blood. And not just some kid that has just come out of nowhere. I’m just saying that this is a lot for a kid. Even though I’m turning 17 in just a few months.
