This Is My Life

4

I finally got out of the cold, chlorine water after a couple more attempts. I must've been waiting in the pool for hours before I could escape. I ran through the yard and away from the huge house. My body was shaking terribly, and the tears kept streaming down my face as I ran. 

I ran the whole way home not stopping to look back. I was so stupid. I actually thought that someone wanted to be friends with me. I need to move away from this town and get away, if only I could. I was heart broken. I felt like I couldn't deal with anything anymore. 

I was lucky that when I got back it was late enough that my grandmother was already asleep. She didn't really seem to care either. She had no idea where I was tonight, or when I would be coming home. She is just stuck having to put up with me. 

I ran to my room and threw myself onto my bed hugging my pillows tight to my chest. Quiet sobs escaping out. 

When my tears had nearly run dry and I felt emotionless I got up and searched my room. I looked in my secret box that I keep my private belongings in. (Not that anyone reallys goes through my room either way.) Inside my box was a necklace that belonged to my mother, a picture of my parents, a couple other items of jewlery, and my razor. 

My bad habit was dangerous, but I really didn't care. Whatever made me feel better. I would do it, and so I did. I walked into the bathroom taking my razor with me. 

I first held it to my wrist, pressing down on it firmly. I could feel it start to burn and a warm thick liquid trickle out. Applying the same amount of pressure I slid it across my wrist, causing a huge gash.  I watched intently as blood poured into my open palm and pooled in the center until it over flowed and dripped onto the floor. I stood there just staring, feeling a sudden rush. 

I took the razor and held it to my side this time. Applying a lot more pressure this time I dug the razor into me. As I slid it across I yelped silently. Blood instantly dripping from the wound. I repeated the motion again on the other side of my body, and just stood there watching the blood drain from my body, dropping to the floor. 

I felt nothing, no pain, no sadness, no loss. Just nothing. My wounds were almost large enough for stitches, and to lose a substantial amount of blood, but I no longer cared. 

After what seemed like hours of just standing there and watching myself bleed, I began to slowly clean the blood off the bathroom floor. With all the blood that had dripped down my body, I figured it was just easier to jump in the shower. It also helped clear my head, but not in the same way my weird habit does. 

That was another reason people believed I was psycho. They didn't understand, no one did. They don't know what I went through. They were not there that night, nor do they know the true story.