Shaken and Tried

To say I was excited to see my extended family this Christmas would be a lie. I don't see why I couldn't just have a Christmas with my mom, dad and no one to ask what my college plans were, why I've changed my hair color yet again or “aren't those pants squeezin' your balls?” Because honestly I have no plans. All the questions stress me out beyond belief and make me think that my family thinks I'm worthless. Truth is I kind of am. Who doesn't have college plans? I'm 17 I should know by now! But I don't. I don't know anything. Not to mention it's supposed to be a secret to that side of the family that I'm gay. They're not to 'supportive' of that kind of thing over there. I just want to introduce Jack to the family like I see my cousins do with their girlfriends. My mom and dad both say that I should just be myself, and if I want to come out then I can, but I don't want to be kicked out of family gatherings. Despite my complaints, some of my cousins are pretty cool and my grandma can be nice, so I'd miss them. Not to mention there's always amazing food. But the fact that they already hate me so much baffles my mind.
Christmas morning was great. My parents were nice and we had pancakes before opening presents. Since I was the only child home for Christmas (my older siblings having grown up and made a family of their own) it was just me, my mom and my dad. I liked it that way. My parents got me amazing gifts, a new black acoustic guitar, a new pair of maroon vans, two pairs of skinny jeans and like 10 flannels. My parents know me so well. I got my mom a necklace with a small gold heart on the end, and my dad a new pair of shoes he's been looking at all year. Christmas started out nothing short of amazing, but that soon changed.
The Christmas dinner went just like I thought it would. Stressful, hateful and panic inducing. I guess it didn't really help that when showing my favorite, non-homophobic cousin a picture of Jack, my uncle over heard. You can imagine how that went.

“Aye, boy, you ain't gay now are ya'”

“Um uh no Uncle Jim I was just showing Michael a picture of my umm friend that's all.”

“Best be, there ain't no faggots in this family.”

That ended with me in the bathroom trying to stop my tears. How could I be such a baby? Am I really crying? Wow.

But now I was home. Alone, tired and sad. Not a good combination in my life. My parents have long since retreated to bed and I'm in my room, curled up in a ball and sobbing. I pull on my hair and muffle a new sob into my pillow. Fucking worthless. I do the first thing I think of to end the pain, and I hop out of my tear soaked bed. I run down the stairs and into the kitchen, flinging open the alcohol cabinet. My eyes find what I'm looking for, vodka. I pull it out and return to my room. My tears have long since stopped when I take the first swig. It burns the back of my throat as it flows down, but I kind of like it. I've never gotten drunk before but I don't see why not now. I'm not too worried about the side effects considering I want to die anyway.
I finish off the bottle which is probably about 6 shots worth in less that 30 minutes. My head is spinning and I'm wobbly on my feet, but I can easily say I feel no better than before. Quiet the opposite in fact. I feel numb, lost, and the idea of killing myself seems like even a better one that before. It's with that that I decide to take some sleeping pills to help in the effects, 19 to be exact. Only after then do I decide to slice open my wrists, two deep, long, vertical gashes resulting on both arms, pouring blood at a faster rate than I've ever witnessed. And as my vision becomes black and blurry I decide to text Jack before I am pulled completely under.

I'm so sorry Jack

Because he deserves better than me, and now he can have it.

Notes

oops

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