I'm Fine.
A/N I'm feeling dark today so I got everything out of my mind into a one shot. I cried so sorry if I made you cry. I didn't mean to kill Mitch but it was the purpose of the story. Sorry. In Mitch's pov by the way.
-Lola x
You never cared.
You never did.
And you never will.
You took little care when I was hurt.
When me and Travis broke up, you only asked if I'm okay.
You've changed, Scott.
You're not the same Scott I knew in highschool.
You're not that overprotective bestfriend that worried at the smallest things.
You never realized that I'm depressed.
You never realized that I self harmed.
You're still oblivious to it.
Since you started dating Alex, you damned changed.
We never spend time together anymore.
We never watch movies together anymore.
Nor cuddle on the couch.
Nor drink Chardonnay together.
Times have changed dramatically, Scott.
It's all your fault.
Your fault that im depressed.
The only time I smile is when we film Superfruit.
Which isn't every week anymore.
You forget most of the time because you're busy with Alex.
I usually sit on that damned couch on the Tuesday we're supposed to film, the tripod set up, just waiting for you to open the front door and film with me.
My Twitter is blown up with tweets.
Every week, asking where Superfruit is.
Why isn't Scömìche together.
Why we don't hang out.
Questions asking why aren't we updating.
Why don't we take pictures together anymore.
Where am I?
I've stopped responding to fans.
I've deleted all my pictures off my phone.
I've deleted Instagram because all pictures I had with you would cause tears to fall from my eyes.
But you don't care.
YOU DONT FUCKING CARE!!
Every time you walk in the room, or apartment after a day out with Alex, memories resurface and tears threaten to fall.
I lock myself in my room and cry.
And cut.
My wrists are full of scars.
My stomach and legs too.
Every patch of my skin that you said was "perfect" in highschool is now covered in either old scars or new red lines cause by the razor blades or knife I keep in my room.
Every time you return home, all you say is hi.
And ask if I had a good day and I always reply with the same old lie.
You ask if I'm okay and again I lie saying that I'm okay but really I'm not!
Fuck you, Scott!!
And your stupid boyfriend as well.
Hell, he might be your fiancé at this point.
I don't know and I don't care.
I don't even want to know.
I have my life and you have yours.
I don't interfere with you life, do I?
You don't interfere with mine and we're good.
That one night you came home, I was sat on the couch, again you asked if I'm okay to which I lied again, saying that in fine although I wasn't, dark circles formed under my eyes from the lack of sleep, my arms hurt from the new wounds, my stomach was rumbling because I've not eaten in days which caused a dramatic weigh loss but I felt fine with my body for once and my cheeks were stained with tears.
That night was a Thursday.
The night you said that you will be leaving for Vegas with Alex the next morning.
I said I was fine with it.
But I really wasn't.
For once I though we could spend a day together.
But no!
You're too busy with your boyfriend to even notice me!
You left for the kitchen and in the meantime I slipped into my room before you got suspicious of my depression.
Each day it got worse.
You ruined my life Scott!
You're the reason I'm like this!
Suicidal.
Depressed.
Worthless.
That Friday morning you said goodbye and left the door.
I was left alone.
I spent the day listening to EDM.
And cutting.
And watching some movies.
And crying.
And cutting.
And crying more.
And cutting even more.
The pain felt good.
The way the cold metal blade split my skin into two.
The way the red blood trickled down my legs, arms and stomach.
This is my happiness.
My relief.
I didn't need you to make me happy anymore.
Because you're the reason why I did this.
Because you don't care!!
On Saturday, I visited Kirstie, Avi and Kevin for the last time.
And Skype'd my parents and sister for the last time.
And had my last Starbucks.
And sent out my last tweet on twitter.
And posted my last tumblr post.
And had my last cuddle session with Wyatt.
And wrote and sent a letter to my sister, parents, Avi, Kevin, Kirstie.
I didn't write one for you because why should I?
You wouldn't read it anyway.
Why?
BECAUSE YOU DONT FUCKING CARE!!
At night, I slit every patch of skin on my body.
Took pills.
Like a whole bottle.
Not only one.
I took like 5 bottles from the bathroom.
Some of them were your pills.
Oh well.
You didn't need them anyway.
Then I fell asleep.
And never awoke in the morning.
You returned that Sunday night.
Shouted my name and saying that your home.
I didn't reply.
So you searched the apartment.
That night you were worried.
You found me in my bedroom.
In my bed.
On top of the comforter.
Pill bottles scattered over the floor.
The sheet and comforter covered in blood.
My sweatshirt sleeves rolled up.
Well actually it was your sweatshirt.
The cloud one from Joyrich.
Sorry but I had to have something of yours.
You found me and you were too late.
Too late, Scott.
You cried.
Sat on my bed.
Squeezing my hand.
Begging God to bring my back to life.
Saying that you loved me.
Yeah, right.
Lies.
Saying that I'm your bestfriend.
Lies.
Lies.
And even more LIES!!
You should have realized how I was feeling earlier.
Maybe you would find me like that if you actually cared and payed attention to me.
You were too late, Scott.
Sorry.
YOU SHOULD HAVE CARED.
I hope you have a nice life without my hopeless self.
I hope you and Alex get married and have a family.
Keep Wyatt and take good care of my baby.
Goodbye, Scott.
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