crash&burn.

   I spill my guts. I take a stab, slice myself open, and let my pieces fall where they may. I tell them everything; the Why [as far as i know], the When.
   "Before I hurt myself...My heart speeds up and my head starts hurting and I can't think until I do it. I-"
   The Mother throws herself in, cutting me off. "You don't hurt yourself because of an anxiety attack, Ari. Stop the bullshit!"
    She always wants to know WHY I don't talk before things get bad. This is what happens when I talk. "See, this is what you do! This is what you do! This is why I don't talk to you!"
    "OH PLEEEEASE, Arianna! Just stop it! Knock it off!" Her expression is disgust. Disgust that I'm not stronger. I need to be strong, bulletproof. Hide better.
    I sob, and scream at her. My voice is so jagged it tears my throat, makes it hurt. "I'M GLAD IT'S SOOOO EASY. DON'T YOU GET IT? I'M GLAD IT'S SO EASY. I'M GLAD YOU FIXED ME. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MAKING ME REALIZE HOW EAAASY IT ALL IS."
    "HOW FUCKING HARD CAN IT BE!?" she throws back.
    I sob again, shaking, fall against the wall, and sink. Ship hit, ship sunk.
    She opens her mouth again. "I took four years of psychology." She says, as if that makes it okay for her to talk the way she is. I'm fucking glad she never became anyone's therapist.
    "So I guess you KNOW EVERYTHING. I'M SO GLAD YOU KNOW MY HEAD BETTER THAN I DO. THANK YOU  THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU."
    "Oh, just shut up! Shut up!" She says, rolling her eyes. She looks at my dad. "Will you make her shut up?"
    He frowns at her. "Stop it," he tells her. "Stop it, this isn't helping."
    "She isn't fucking helping!" She says, before yelling at me again.
     Oceans pour out of my eyes. "WHY WON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME, MOM. I'm trying to tell you! The least you could do is attempt to understand! You say how you want me to talk then tell me to shut up!"
    "Shut up and knock it off you little bitch!"
    "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU. I HATE YOU!" I scream so loudly the windows shake.
    She picks up the phone and starts dialing. "Screw this. I'm calling the hospital right now to take her in. I don't want to deal with this shit."
    "GO RIGHT AHEAD! YOU'D RATHER LOCK ME UP THAN TALK TO ME."
    "You're right, I don't want to talk to you! I want you to shut up!"
    "YOU WON'T EVEN TRY TO UNDERSTAND!"
     "What is there to fucking understand? You want to cry like a little fucking baby and say 'WOE IS MEEEEE' and have us coddle you. I won't do it, Arianna."
    I dig my nails into my skin. "Okay. I won't ever talk to you again. EVER." I laugh so hard then that my head spins, dizzy. Then again, until I almost fall over. I turn down the hall and yell to no one. "IT'S OKAY EVERYONE! SHE STOPPED TALKING!" I yell it as I try to leave, until a GET BACK HERE flies through the air, catching me in its web.
    I turn around, throwing anything that will hurt out my mouth. "YOU WON'T EVEN TALK TO YOUR OWN FUCKING DAUGHTER. FUCKKK YOU! FUCK YOU!"  This is it, Mom. This is my grand fuck-you to the world. This is my disappearing act, here one moment and poof the next.
    "I'M LEAVING. I DON'T WANT TO DEAL WITH THIS FOUL MOUTHED, UNGRATEFUL, WHINY LITTLE BITCH." She screams back, , all gnashing teeth and terrible claws, and storms outside. Leaves me.
    But Dad is there still and he tries. He listens. I tell him about the hallucinations. The way my head thinks without me. The way I need to destroy myself. And the numbers, the multiples of three.
    Mom comes back in middle of the numbers-talk and pipes in, cutting me off again.
    "S-s-some numbers are good, and some numbers are bad,"I'm saying. "They..."
    "She took that from a Dean Koontz book," she says matter-of-factly, smugly, rolling her eyes again.
    I was calm until she came back. Now I scream again. "I didn't take this from a stupid book! This is real!" I start sobbing again and shaking and I can't breathe. My heart races and skips beats.
    I cut her off this time when she tries to speak. "WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST STAY OUTSIDE!" I'm in fucking pain and she won't try. She won't see how much this hurts. No, I'm a fucking baby. YOU FUCKING BABY. CRY, BABY. WHAAA. WHAAAA. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. GROW THE FUCK UP.
     She leaves again. Everyone leaves, after three hours of fighting. I cry so hard when they leave. Each wave of tears crashes over my head and drowns me. Each wave leaves me feeling carved-out and empty before the next comes. I start screaming, alone in the room. "JUST PUT ME IN A HOSPITAL!" over and over I yell it. I don't want to be in this house anymore. I can't hear her anymore. Dad tries to understand, he listens when I talk. But she doesn't.
    Dad comes out, looking both tired and strong, and puts his hand ontop of my head, kisses my hair. "Get some rest, LooLoo." He sends me off to bed. I thank him over and over before I go. Thank you, you listened.
    In bed, I like awake. I sob for a while. I didn't drink so there's nothing left to cry, and my sobs are dry and heaving. I scream into a pillow, kick my feet, scratch my arms. I sleep when the light is blue again. 
Stopped eating. Stopped drinking. Nothing gets in my body. Nobody gets in my head. I'm safe.

Never open up to anyone ever. This is what happens.