Recovery

Seventeen - I.C.

I say, "I'm 17 and insane. 17 and angry at the world, 17 and sad beyond belief." As I look at my own reflection, I see a girl I really don't know, I haven't known myself since the 6th grade when I was sure my favorite color was purple, and I was sure I would never be in love or get my heartbroken. I haven't known myself since I was 15 and saying goodbye to him 6 months too late. As my 17th year comes to a close, I can't help but think how I've spent most of it trying to keep my head above water.The last year of innocence before I'm thrown into a mad world, has been wasted on tears and bloody wrists. I have been both the painter and the canvas, I have been both anger and sadness, topped with guilt. I have been the razor in my fingertips cutting myself, and everyone else out of my life. I have been loneliness at 3am and the thought of never seeing 18. I have been keeping myself from drowning in water too deep, and I have been choking on swallowed words I just can't say out loud. I have been broken since the day I was born, untouched but ripping at the seams. Cracked veins and blue bruised knees, scarred up arms and dark eyes. The ugly honest truth, and pretty wrapped up lies. I have been fine, just fine."