It’s not my fault.
It’s not my fault I’ll never be good enough for you. That I’m nothing but a screw up to you, I’m so worthless. No matter how fucking hard I try I will never be enough for you, I’m just a nuisance, someone you can just use, someone easily forgotten. I am nothing to you and I never will be. I should accept that fact but no matter how many times I tell myself that I don’t need you, I don’t need this, that I’m better than this, you come and destroy all that. All my strength, my confidence, hope, all of it is destroyed by you. And I tell myself every time, it’s not my fault. It’s not my fault you hate me, that I’m not good enough to you, it’s not my fault it’s not my fault it’s not…my fault…. But soon those words don’t work for me and all I hear is that it is my fault, and that’s what I start to believe.
Karkat couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his face, no matter how hard he tried they wouldn’t stop and it pissed him off. He was clenching his fists so tight he didn’t notice he was bleeding till he went to wipe away his tears. He felt the hot red blood smear across his face. He couldn’t even feel the pain. His chest hurt so badly and he wanted the pain to stop so badly. His chest was heaving from anger and sadness; he ran to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Seeing his mutated color of blood made him sick, he couldn’t stand it. Looking in the mirror he stared at his reflection.
Why did I ever think I could be good enough for him? I’m just some hideous freak who everyone hates. How did I get it in my stupid fucking thinkpan that I could even compare to HIM, that I stood a chance, an actual fucking chance. I’m so fucked up to even think GAH!! Karkat punched the mirror in front of him, sending shards shattering into the sink and onto the floor. They shattered into sharp pieces like knives. Sweat beaded down his forehead. He stared at the remaining pieces left of the mirror. Anger consumed him and he grabbed for the razor in his cabinet, he took it to his wrist slowly and let himself bleed more. He couldn’t feel anything so he did it again and a few more times. Tears blurred his vision and he couldn’t see anything, he tried to wipe away the tears in frustration.
His chest heaving he sunk to the floor with his fist clenched in front of him. He felt something warm go down his arm; a stinging sensation began to burn on his wrists. Pulling his hands away from his face and wiping the tears again he stared down at what he’d done. He had five or six cuts along his left wrist. Each one of them burned and stung with a sharp pain that he finally felt. Glossy red droplets fell from his wrists and onto his pants. His palms had small cuts from his sharp nails digging into them. His face was hot and wet from his tears. The pain in his chest was still there as he heaved and tried to calm himself.
He leaned against the wall and thoughts flooded his mind. The day had started out not so bad, but then he was walking down the halls things change. He saw Dave first, his blond hair and dark shades covering his face. Then he saw the other, his dark hair and those stupid glasses as he kissed Dave, his hand holding Dave’s and how he seemed to smile into the kiss pissed Karkat off so much. Karkat had wondered if anyone was around if they would have heard his heart break because he was so fucking sure it was so loud in his ears as it shattered the moment he saw Dave and John kissing. Karkat should have known that he didn’t stand a chance with that stupid human, they had been friends longer and could understand each other in ways Karkat never could. Love was so stupid he couldn’t believe he let himself fall so in love with that stupid Dave Strider.