When I close my eyes it's like a dark paradise.
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Last night was horrible, as much as I want to I know I can't go to school looking like this. I get up and lock my self in the bathroom. I decloth myself and hop in the shower, the hot water burned my cuts and bruises, I whimper each time.
Once finished I dry myself and brush my teeth, I wipe away the fog from the mirror and look at myself. I see everything wrong with me. Everything everyone hates. My pale skin, my freckles, you name it. I stare, unable to move or speak. Tears stream down my face uncontrollably. How could there be so much to hate? My hair drips on my shoulders, bringing me back to reality. I covered up the bruises on my chin and on my eye. I curl my hair and walk out the door.
Day after day I picture it.. someone, anyone, coming to my rescue. The pure thought of leaving this world behind excites me, yet I still feel, as if something were coming for me. Surely this wouldn't be it. Though, I have no reason to foster hope... I'm basically falling apart wat the seams and nobody knows. Then again, how would they, I do a decent job at covering it up and all but I still wish somebody would look at me and tell me they know I'm hurting and they appreciate the person I am. That leads me to the question, what type of person am I.
I'm afraid of these voices inside my head, all of which scream they want me dead. I'm too scared to fight, too scared of what happens when I turn out the light. Then and only then do these monsters consume me. For where must I run to hide from these thoughts. A home I must find, before all hope is lost
I am so unhappy, and I hate myself
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To be Continued...
YOU ARE READING
Path of Insanity
Non-FictionAnd in her head grew a list of things she'd done wrong, names she'd be called, and mistakes she'd made. Slowly these are the things she became.
