Page 3 of Reluctantly You

I hate who I’ve been, who I can’t seem to help becoming.

I have nothing.

I am nothing.

No one.

No one would miss me if I were gone.

I turn away from the happy family, one that’s only half mine by blood, and move silently, letting the darkness consume the entirety of me, letting my existence disappear into the void.

What’s the point of moving when there’s nothing to move for?

That’s the question of the fuckin’ day, I think as I lie in bed, my gaze fixed on the ceiling, eyes hazy and slightly tilted. Everything is in black and white, a muted shade of gray. It swirls in my vision, like a blizzard, making my head fuzzy.

No one’s even noticed I’m gone. It’s been two days. Work doesn’t care, my parents don’t care—well, my mom hasn’t called. My dad isn’t my dad, now is he? Even if he were, he wouldn’t give a shit. He seems to only care about himself.

My brothers… Well, they’ve abandoned me, too busy being gay and happy.

And here I am, alone in my cavernous house, my limbs unable to move.

For a moment, I wonder if I’m depressed and then my dad’s voice fills my mind.

It’s not depression. Men don’t get depressed. Push through it.

My fists clench tightly and I loosen them as I breathe deeply through my nose.

I’d go to the gym, but there’s no one there to meet me, to toss a ball around with, to have fun with.

Maybe that’s just how it is now. How my future will be. I’m unlovable and no one wants me anymore.

The heels of my palms push into my wet eyes, and I huff in frustration. I hate feeling like this. For so long I’ve used anger to put up a wall between me and everyone else, and now it’s starting to crumble. Brick by brick, the mortar old and weak. I’m falling apart at the seams.

I’m still angry, don’t get me wrong, but now I’m just angry at myself.

I’m so fucking angry.

I turn onto my stomach and bury my face in my pillow, swirls of red and orange flitting through my vision before they melt back into the dull gray of earlier.

I can’t even envision colors anymore.

I can’t envision anything in this darkness.

Tomorrow I need to get my ass up and go to work. I don’t even want to. Perhaps I can call in sick. I don’t want to see my dad.

My non-biological dad. Not that he knows that I know. But I do. I fucking know. It hurts that it’s all been a lie. My brothers are just half of me. Maybe they always knew and that’s why they’ve pulled away. Maybe I’m just too different, too abhorrent.

Mr. Morris, I can confirm that I’ve found your biological father.

Who the fuck is my real dad, and how do I go about telling my mom I know what she did?

Goddamn.

I squeeze my eyes closed and push the world out.

I’ll manage this all tomorrow.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.