On Sunday, I felt more homey than usual, and decided to take some comfortable time to myself, after what happened yesterday. I dressed myself in soft sweatpants, and my black sweater that's slightly oversized and has a skull on the front of it. I relaxed myself on my bed, and opened up my personal laptop, opening Netflix and finding the newest season of Voltron.

Father got home early from work today, like usual, so at around two o' clock. He didn't question my laziness, nor cared, since I'm usually active. He let me be, maybe assuming something was up. However, he didn't push to ask; ever since Mama and Bianca died, we still cared for each other, but weren't as close or vocal with our feelings. It's okay, though, as long as he's still a good dad to Hazel and I, which he is.

At around three, Hazel hopped into my room. I paused my Netflix show.

"Wanna help me make some graphics?" she asks, trying to make me feel better. By graphics, she means online art like book covers, icons, etc., which I have seemed to be fascinated with lately.

I smiled slightly at her attempt, but declined, not really feeling like doing anything that requires work and effort. Maybe I felt a little depressed.

At around four, something unexpected happened. I heard something hit my window, and assumed it was another bird, since I'm upstairs and no one can knock. But when I opened the curtain, there was a bundle of paper sitting right outside the seal on the window. I quickly opened the window, grabbed the paper, then closed the window. Relaxing back onto my bed, I uncrumpled the ball.

The writing it contained was a bunch of slurs and insults, all revolving around Schizophrenia and my "craziness." The writing was by different hands.

I was right, Percy did let the word slip out. And now...

I felt like crying, but I was more angry than sad. Why did this happen? I mean, I know why, but... why...? What did I do?

I crumpled the paper back up, and tossed it on the floor at the other end of the room. I glanced out my window to see if any teenagers from my school were there, but they had all dispersed and were gone by now, probably laughing away.

Perfect. Word's around, and I don't know how's spreading it. More problems to deal with. Hazel might even find out too. This thing is like coming out as gay, I'm supposed to be in control of who knows and when and how and why and where they find out and by who. This feeling in the pit of my stomach is awful.

I sigh, laying down on my bed. The world hates me, doesn't it?