I sat in my class. the teacher voice drowning me in boredom. I was pretty my soul had began the painful process of leaving my body. I looked at the white board.

"*#&*(@^, Please answer this question." i looked up, fuck.

I stood up and fixed my jacket before grabbing the marker and writing in German. This was my teacher who could speak German and Didn't mind if i did so. I finished and lazily sat beck down. I took a cat nap, waking up due to my sister.

"sleepy head." She chuckled as I stretched and walked out with her. We had a lot of classes together. 

She wasn't my real sister. Of course I was an only child always having a switch blade on my pocket and when I asked my parents for help they where busy scrabbling for money. 

I sighed and walked out, binder to my chest, I sat in my next class, Art. My favorite.

That's sarcasm. I hate my art class because I don't have control on what I do. I hate it. I sit in a table where no one is. I sketched softly in my corner, we were working on clay, I didn't touch it though.

My teacher, who I call miss lemon, and lemony siniekt behind her back. Sorta.

"Why aren't you using the clay?"

I was working on my boyfriend drawing. 

"B..because....I...clay..." I respond before melting into my hoodie.

"What *&$;2;*?"

"I..I can't...can't...can't!"

My sister then came over. 

"Ms. Lemon, I can take care of him."

"Thank you."

We go outside, she growled.

"You Need to get better. You need to be real, realize your shit and can't do anything and except it."

I sighed and curled up, she got closer and held me.

"I am doing this to help you, okay?"

I nodded, and got up. I went to the bathroom and took out my switch blade, blood dripped down my arm, I hissed softly. It hurt like hell. Bandaids where needed.

I go back upstairs and go back to stopping my blood circulation again with a rubber band. I sat down and went back to drawing, not being bothered now.

During lunch I sat down with my sister and her girlfriend. I didn't get food, I don't eat food.

She worried about me. She tried to help. She didn't get it. She never really could. Personal experience and all. I just wish...I just...ugh. I swear I sound like Those fake edgy teens. No one understands me, and all that. But no one does! I have never met anyone who does. And I can't get help or go to therapy. I here tight on cash as it is. I mean I do odd jobs all the time to keep my parents afloat. I just...want help.