I make my way out of the parking lot and down the road. It was busy but I knew everyone was either going to fast to notice or didn't care. The only sound I can hear is the clicking of my heels. Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday little bitch, happy birthday to me.
How pathetic am I? I can't even keep a guy for 2 months, no. He cheats on me on my birthday. But I can't really blame him now. She's skinny, pretty, confident. I turn the corner to a familiar road. My road. She was older than me, probably funny, smart, most likely good in bed.
My heels crunch on the gravel road as I turn to walk up to my house. I throw open the door, nobody's home so I'm not worried about disturbing anyone. I strip down and pull on a tank and pajama shorts. My bare feet pad across the hall to my bathroom.
I grab for my razor and a towel. Sitting on the ground next to my toilet I get to work. I press the cool razor to the skin of my upper thigh. I slide it quickly as the word 'fat' tumbles out of my mouth. I automatically see strips of blood.
I repeat the process with each word. Ugly. Shy. Childish. Loser. Stupid. Pathetic. Fat. Ugly. Hated. Retarded. The words come out faster and faster. Each slice going deeper and deeper. It hurts more and more. I go until there are a good 20 cuts on my legs.
My vision begins to get blurry. I'm lightheaded as the blood adorns the towel. I stand up and stumble into the kitchen. I reach into the freezer and grab for the bottle of vodka. I hadn't touched it for two months. I didn't need to. Patric filled the void that the Vodka was.
In fact Patric and I hadn't drunken anything since our first night. But now Patric was the reason for my drinking. I carry the ice cold fifth of vodka back into the bathroom. I sit back down and remove the towels. The blood had stopped flowing.
I unscrew the cap and press the bottle to my lips. I take the razor and make another cut. Swig, cut, swig, cut, swig, cut. I go on like that until I pass out. I'm not sure if it was from blood loss or too much alcohol but I slowly slip into unconsciousness.
I hear maniac laughter and high pitched screaming. Red fills my vision, I feel myself falling. Falling further and further down. Where is that damned screaming coming from? My lungs feel like they're being crushed. Then I realize it's me. I'm the one screaming. I strangle for my breath as all I hear is a loud beeping noise.
Beep. Beep. Beep. It almost broke my ear drums. But it gradually got softer. Until it was just a buzzing. This is no normal unconsciousness, this is my dance with the devil.
