Dead Butterflies

butterflies are replaced with bees

it started with a word.

(stupid)

as in,

"God, you're so stupid!"

"She's such a dumb and naive thing, isn't she?"

"I never realized how unbelievably idiotic you were."

it got worse but she ignored it, bless her heart.

(fat)

"Hey, slow down there, Miss Piggy."

"My God, where do you put all that?"

"You're kinda fat, you know?"

she hid the tears and kept pushing through, but they kept hammering away at her porcelain exterior, waiting for it to show signs of damage.

(pathetic)

"How desperate are you?"

"I'm not your friend, you pathetic waste of space."

"I mean, she really seems like a lowlife attention seeker."

the exterior cracked, the bullies laughed. but unlike Humpty Dumpty, no one ever offered to put her back together. no one ever tried. they assumed the problem would fix itself, but they never knew the truth.

she drew butterflies before.

before butterflies became bees.

before she floated away into a hopeless existence.

before the numbers meant more than her health.

before she lost the last piece of her humanity.

before she was a ghost.

before her world came crumbling down on top of her, suffocating her and drowning her loved ones in grief.

before, she drew butterflies.

they all had meaning. they represented how much she was hurting.

the first time, it was an accident.

she sat in English waiting for something to happen, but nothing ever did. she was absentmindedly drawing things on her paper; she didn't mean anything by them. but then her pen accidentally went to her wrist. it was sharp; it didn't feel good at first, but she got used to it. when she looked down, all she saw was a butterfly, a beautiful, beautiful butterfly. who didn't like butterflies?

but butterflies are such fragile creatures, and eventually they have to come down from the sky. the next time it happened, it hurt less, and she kept doing it again and again and again and again until she lost feeling in her wrists and all you could see was red pen on skin. and then, a solution; a solution that would prevent her from buying more and more red pens.

a blade.

this blade had one drawback: it brought tears to her eyes. these weren't butterflies, not anymore.

it had become a swarm of bees.

it stung her wrists, but she kept going.

in time, she learned to appreciate this hurt.

_____________________________________

I'm Still Broken has been taken down due to a lack of storyline. WELCOME DEAD BUTTERFLIES. This story deals with many issues relating to depression, suicide, self-harm, anxiety, eating disorders, and bullying.

I DO NOT ENCOURAGE SELF HARM, EATING DISORDERS, SUICIDE, OR BULLYING.

If you are easily triggered, this is not the book for you.