Before I Break (25 page)

“Hey, are you ready to head to lunch?” she asked. Klara was my lunch buddy for the entire year so far and I almost felt bad about ditching her for Devon.

“I’m sorry, I can’t today,” I told her. “I’m sitting with Devon to discuss options for the play, which needs to be done by the end of this month. I guess my creativity has been lacking lately.”

My intentions weren’t to hurt her feelings, but apparently I did because her smile fell as I spoke. “But we always sit together.”

“I’ll sit with you tomorrow, I promise. Just give me today to do this, okay?”

Klara nodded and walked away as I headed toward the cafeteria. Once inside, I found Devon and some of the popular kids sitting at a table near the back. This always seemed to be my problem; I mean, he was cool and was just a fool (ha, see I can rhyme!). What was I supposed to say once I got over there? “Devon, love me” didn’t sound like a good choice of words, but hey, I never said I was that blunt. Sometimes I wish I could be, though. So as I headed over to the table, I composed myself as best as I could.

Devon smiled when he saw me and said to his friends, “Hey guys, this is Avery Branson and he’s writing our play this year.” Everyone said their hellos as I took a seat next to Devon. I was at a loss for words because people weren’t usually this nice to me. This was something I’d never really encountered before and I sort of didn’t want it to end.

“So, do you want to toss around a few ideas?” Devon asked me.

“Sure,” I replied, trying to hide my nervousness. “I was thinking that…maybe we should do a drama instead of a comedy. I work better with dramas.”

“I agree,” Devon said. “Comedies are a challenge for me.”

Well, at least he and I were on the same page. “Do you want a dark drama or a more light-hearted one? I can do either.”

Devon seemed to think about it for a moment before he said, “I think something dark. Giving the audience some chills sounds fun.” He smirked a little at me then,

Right then,
she
appeared. And by “she,” I mean slut. This girl had long blonde hair, and was wearing shorts that seemed to go up to her bare ass. She tapped my shoulder and glared at me in a pretty/mean-girl kind of way. “You’re sitting in my spot.”

She looked at Devon for help, and he said, “Um, Avery, maybe you should go. We can finish this later, right? Arianna should have her seat.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor as an overwhelming sense of confusion came over me. “Yeah, sure thing.”

I left quickly, hoping to escape the embarrassment as soon as possible. What the hell had happened back there? Come to find out, that Arianna girl is Devon’s girlfriend, which shouldn’t have really been a shock, but for some reason it was. This means that Devon is only interested in me as a friend. Did I really make a fool out of myself thinking that Devon liked me? Did he get the vibe I was giving off? I really hope not.

Hang on; I just got a message—

So get this: That Arianna bitch just sent me a Facebook message telling me to leave her boyfriend alone and that Devon had no idea I was really gay. I really wish I could hit her right now! Was she trying to pin Devon against me when she doesn’t even
know
me?

The best thing I can try and do right now is ignore her, despite wanting to fight with her about it. Tomorrow I really need to discuss this with Devon privately without Arianna getting in the way of our forming friendship.

DECEMBER 5TH

As I write this, my hands are shaking so bad. The first thing I need to do is not let my anxiety get to me, to but to be honest, I am not sure I can calm down. Where do I even begin to describe what just went down?

It started with me deciding that I needed to talk to Devon, which was a decision I had already made the night before. I stayed up most of the night, until three in the morning to be exact, thinking of all the things I was going to say to him, and when I got to school I was just extremely tired.

The day started pretty normally, and in theatre class Mrs. Burley told me that Devon was resigning as director.

“Do you have any idea why?” she asked me.

I had a pretty good idea, but didn’t really want to talk about it. “I don’t know. I can talk to him if you want me to.”

So of course, since I had already planned on talking to him anyway, I made my way over to where he sat with his group of theatre friends and asked if I could speak to Devon alone.

“What do you want?” some kid asked. He was short and not even the slightest bit attractive, with a shaved head and lots of freckles, but apparently that’s what Devon looks for in friends.

“I want to talk to Devon,” I replied.

The guy laughed and Devon said nothing, completely ignoring me. The boy on the other hand, who went by the name of Mark, said, “He doesn’t wanna talk to you, faggot. He’s afraid he might catch the gay.”

As Mark said those words, my heart nearly dropped to my stomach. I stared at Devon and said, “Is that true?”

He wouldn’t even meet my eyes.

As I walked away, tears began forming in my eyes, and my friend Hannah came over to me and said, “What just happened?” She was kind of pretty, with black and pink hair, and had been one of my only friends this year. As the tears began to flow, she reached out to hug me.

“No,” I said, pulling back. “I just…I need to use the restroom.”

I ran out into the hallway and into the bathroom, and once I was sure that no one was in there I began to cry. That was probably one of the worst things ever said to me, but mostly because I ignored everything else. This coming from Devon and his friends…well, this was different. I felt hurt. My chest tightened up and I cried even harder, but I hated this pain I was feeling and I just wanted it to go away.

That was when I realized I
could
get it to go away.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pencil, but that wasn’t what I was staring at. I was looking directly at the metal part where the eraser was, and in complete anger, I ripped off the eraser and bit hard on the metal, making it nice and sharp.

I had heard of people doing this, but never expected myself to be one of those people. In that moment, I sliced the metal directly across my arm, drawing blood, and watched it drip down my arm. It stung and burned but it felt so…good. The relief was overwhelming and I swiped one more time, making sure I felt good enough talk walk back into class.

Now the only problem was actually hiding it. After dabbing the cuts with some toilet paper, I made sure the sleeves of my shirt were rolled down enough to cover my arms. Thank God long sleeved shirts were invented.

So after the long day of hiding my cuts, when I arrived home, I applied some peroxide to it and am now sitting here writing in this journal. I’ve messaged Devon twice, and even though he saw them, he wasn’t responding. This was pathetic. I feel pathetic, even though I don’t want to. Cutting myself was a mistake, and I’m shaking with guilt. Shaking with fear. I just wanted everything to go away.

Hopefully tomorrow will be better. I still need to come up with something for the play, but as of right now, that doesn’t seem as important.

DECEMBER 12TH

It’s been quite a few days since I last wrote in this journal, but right now I feel like I really need to. I’m crying right now, but I’ll get to that in a moment. I don’t really know why everything I do, I do wrong, but I really just can’t take it anymore. Not only am I sad, I feel depressed. I want to say that it started with Devon, but I can’t really say it did. I’ve always felt kind of off, and it seems to me that it wasn’t really until now that things were getting out of hand.

This whole last week I have been trying hard to write this play and it’s been causing my grades to suffer. Now any time I get a bad grade, I cut myself to relieve the pain and punish myself at the same time—I really don’t know how much longer I can keep this going. Just in this last week alone, I have more than thirty cuts on my left arm and I’m running out of room. Now my next target is my right arm.

And of course, Devon hasn’t spoken to me at all lately. I see him every day in theatre but all he does is ignore me. Hell, he won’t even meet my eyes anymore. It’s sad, really, because I actually did like him a lot. I felt lost, so confused, and completely and utterly alone.

At lunch, today, Klara and I were eating together when she said, “What’s that on your arm?”

I glanced down and noticed that one of my cuts was showing. “Oh, that’s my cat,” I lied. “She kind of went crazy with it.”

Klara glared at me and said, “Avery, I know when you’re lying to me. How did that cut get there?”

The truth was, I didn’t really want to lie to Klara—she was practically my best friend after all. “I kind of did them…”

“You what?” she asked and slapped me on the shoulder. “What is wrong with you? Have you lost your damn mind?”

Maybe I had, but I pretty much ignored anything she said. Most of it was her rambling on and on about how I was going to ruin my life, but what kind of life was this? I was getting bad grades, the guy I liked wasn’t even talking to me, and everything just seemed to be going wrong. I really didn’t want to do it anymore.

And that’s how I still feel right now. I once had so much going for me, but do I really still have these things? It really doesn’t seem like it, and I hate feeling like I am not good enough for anything or anyone. I just have so much pain and hatred building up inside of me and I can’t even begin to express why.

Can someone hate themselves without really knowing why?

DECEMBER 15TH

I really feel like I came up with the best idea for the play ever. Of course, it’s only in its rough stage, but I really feel like this will work.

It’s a story about a young boy, who has a dark and dangerous path, and he comes to a new school, only to fall deeper into depression. It’s dark, unique, and I think it’ll have the audience in tears. I am so ready for this.

DECEMBER 17TH

“No.” That was the response I got when I proposed the idea to Mrs. Burley.

“Why not?” I asked. “It’s dark, mysterious, and will have an emotional impact on the crowd. If you just give me the opportunity to develop it a little more—”

“I’m sorry, we just can’t do a play that promotes depression and self-harm,” she replied. “If you want to write something else, that would be great.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor, and I said, “You know what? Fuck it.” I stormed out of her office as she called after me.

“Avery, wait!”

“No,” I replied and slammed the door behind me. She really has lost her mind. I
finally
come up with a good idea and she wants to deny me the right to make it a play? Well, I was done with theatre now. Who needs a class full of fake people anyway?

As I stormed down the hall, the assistant principle found me and said, “Avery, please come with me.”

So much anger was building inside of me. “Why? So I can be yelled at some more? Told my ideas suck? No thanks.”

She looked pretty pissed. “You don’t need to talk like that to me.”
      

And that was when I broke. “Yeah, well, everyone at this school doesn’t need to be an asshole, but for some reason that’s all everyone tries to do.” I didn’t know where the anger was coming from—it was like it was coming deep within me and I couldn’t even control myself anymore.

She then suspended me for three days, so here I am writing in this journal. I am so literally disgusted with everyone and everything right now that I don’t even want to go back to that school.

And Devon just messaged me.

“Avery,” it says, “I am sorry that we can’t be friends anymore, but I know that you like me and it’s just too uncomfortable on my part. Just forget that we ever started talking. I wish you well.”

He wishes me well?! Ha, that only thing he seems to be doing is completely cutting me off. I am so angry right now and I’m craving a cut, even if it’s just a little one. Maybe I just need to do some and then go to sleep. This has been a really sucky day.

DECEMBER 21ST

Well, here’s some interesting news. Because my suspension runs through Christmas Break, I’ll actually not be going back to school until January. It wasn’t like a really wanted to, because there wasn’t really anything for me there.

I should be excited for Christmas, but the sad thing is, I’m not. I just want to feel normal, to
be
normal, but that didn’t seem like it was ever going to happen. Maybe when Christmas comes I’ll finally be able to be happy.

Maybe…just maybe.

DECEMBER 24TH

No. That is all I have to say right now, because you know what, I don’t really think I’ll be writing in this journal ever again. I don’t know how much time I have left, so I need to write as quickly as possible.

This morning, which is Christmas Eve, I woke up to find that Arianna had messaged me again. I am going to write the message out for you to read.

“Hey Avery,” she said, “I thought I told you to BACK OFF. I guess you just don’t get the hint but Devon doesn’t like you. Actually, NO ONE likes you or wants to see your face ever again. You’re pathetic. I hate you and everyone else hates you too, so do us all a favor for Christmas and kill yourself.”

I told Devon about the message she sent me and even took a screenshot of it and sent it to him and do you want to know what he said?

“It’s not my problem anymore. Maybe she’s right.”

MAYBE SHE’S RIGHT? That’s what he’s going to say after she told me to kill myself? I can’t help but feel like they’re right, so I went and took a whole bottle of Tylenol. It’s not doing anything right now but I’m waiting. At least I can be out of this life for good where I can’t bother anyone.

But why am I so sad? I wish I knew. Every day of my life I seem to be falling into a darker pit than I can get myself out of. Nothing can save me now because, hell, I don’t want to be saved. Screw Christmas. Screw everyone and everything. In a little while I’ll be gone and no one will have to deal with my drama anymore. If I don’t want to deal with it, I’m sure no one else wants to either.