the blood was trickling down my wrist. i felt a rush, i felt no more pressue. i cleaned it up and stuck a bandaid on my wrist. they say it gets better, i used to think that. the hope is gone now. my therepist thinks i am making progress, i'm not. sometimes, i just feel everything and just shut myself in the bathroom. i wear long tshirts to school, everyday. even in the summer. my friends make jokes, i laugh. it is a fake laugh. they don't know.
my aunt talked to me about next year, senior year. i am now a junior. she talks about summer camp. i nod my head in a faked excitment. it will make her happy to see me like this. i'll still bring them along. i am erin and i cut.
YOU ARE READING
The Camp
Teen FictionCamp Alright was the camp for anyone. The summer of 2015, changed for the kids that went.
