Music blared from the speakers as I laid there. The cold, hard, wooden floor hurt my side from laying on it for hours, but not as much as I hurt inside. The puddle of salty tears grew as did the feeling in my head. Worthless, fear, anger, pain, sadness, every terrible feeling humanly possible was bottled up inside of me, nowhere to go. It circled in me like a never ending tornado. Causing destruction, not caring what it ruins, and in the end, everyone losses hope. I opened my sore, red eyes and looked across the room into my mirror, only seeing half of my face. I stopped sobbing for a moment to limply get up. I walked over to the narrow mirror and looked into it. What I saw was a body. A lifeless body left to rot. I didn't recognize myself. Not the happy, athletic girl I use to be. No part of me was left in the worthless body I stared at. Anger overcame me. I balled up my fist and punch the mirror leaving shattered glass all over the floor. I punched again and again then kicked at it. Once there was nothing but wood and glass I moved to the wall, releasing my never ending anger out on it leaving holes and blood. I walked over to my dresser and threw down a glass bottle, then a vase and in one swipe the rest of what was left throwing myself down with it, continuing to cry. Nothing made since. The way I felt, who I was, none of it. The only thing I knew was that physical pain felt better than the mental pain I was feeling. I just wanted the mental pain to go away, to stop. So that's what was going to happen. I got up with the last bit of energy I had in me and made my way into the kitchen. I slowly walked to a drawer and opened it and drew out a large cutting knife. I looked into it and saw my reflection. I looked at the blurry stranger who stared back at me, taunting me. I turned the knife towards my stomach and pressed the end point to my delegate skin. I stopped crying and closed my eyes. Thoughts and memories rushed to my brain. The lying, teasing, the insults, punches, bruises. Being called fat, ugly, a slut. Being the odd one out and never being able to find myself. Too see the actual me. Never being excepted or truly loved or even liked. The pain, now a mind of its own, made my lips curl into a sickening smile and laugh, but then the thoughts stop. The memories stopped. I opened my eyes and looked down. The knife had slowly sunken into my skin like this disease had sunken into my brain, but that pain wasn't there. For once, the hurt wasn't there. I had won. I once again closed my eyes from relief and fell to the ground. Silence overcame me. I was finally free.
