In the past, I loved life, but now I hate it. The little Alexis that ran around the house in her princess dress. Now it the big alex that stays in her room all the time and wheres black. The world destroyed that little girl. Broke her into pieces and tried to use therapy to stick her back together, but you stuck so many pieces in the wrong places and now all I want to do is disappear. I only get on my phone to look at band pictures anymore, because the brightness hurts my eyes. All the texts I get burn through my eyes, and bury deep into my mind. But it's just a joke. Well until the blade creates beautiful lines of blood on my wrist. But their not there when I do it so how would they know it happens? I cover the scars with bracelets, so they don't see. I could say that I'm used to it, but a part of me breaks a little with every word there mouths speak. Nothing conferts me anymore, not even the screams of my favorite band. And when I put my best friend up so I can sleep, I dream about taking him out and cutting just a little bit deeper. But maybe not in my wrist... maybe, just maybe, my throat.
I look down at the paper I wrote. And then I notice that my blood has dropped on the corner of the page. I try to rub it off, but it just smears. And while I try to rub it off, I sling blood across the page. I don't try to get it off, because I know it won't work. I just sit there and cry. A few tears hit the page and I cry more. I always destroy everything. I've never once made anything better. I silently place the page, after it dries, into my folder. I grab my blade and walk in the darkness to my bed to dream of broken butterflies.
