I'm sorry.
I pushed the blade deeper into my skin. Sliding it across my wrist, repeating the same two words over and over.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for being a mistake. I'm sorry for not having a purpose. I'm sorry for not being able to make a difference.
With each cut blood came out. A dark crimson color. It flowed down my pale arm.
I knew why I did it. Some people didn't. I didn't do it for attention. I didn't do it to just hurt myself.
I didn't do it to feel pretty.
I didn't do it to feel like I could do something.
I did it because with each cut the inner pain that I felt got a little bit easier to deal with, and sometimes the voices would go quiet. But only for a little while. So then I would do it again. I would make the pain on my outside hurt worse than the pain in the inside.
I didn't like the scars. I did my best to cover them up. I covered them up with smiles, sleeves, and sometimes even laughing. But at night when I lay in my bed I take away the coverage. I take away the smiles and the laughter and I let it all go. I let everything go. All the words, all the voices. All the tears that I hold in when I'm around people, all the pained screams that fill my body.
Some people can tell. Some people can look into my sad hazel eyes and can see the pain. They can see all my scars, and my crys. They try to help me; comfort me but they fail. I can't be helped.
Sometimes I think about it. Think about ending my life. It's really funny if you think about. That one single motion could end a life. A thing that people spend.. well there whole life trying to protect, and one cut, one pull, or one step could end it.
You care. And I feel sorry for you. Having to deal with... a total utter mess for 16 years. Then I think about how easier it will be for you if I was gone.
I don't call for help, I don't need it. I can stop, I just don't want to. If I do the voices will take over and I wouldn't be able to handle that. I don't know why the voices chose me. I guess it's my apperance. My black hair was plain, and I was nowhere near thin. The voices tell me that. So I cut to keep them at bay because I can't handle them. They make me feel like nothing.
So I cut. It's the only thing that I know that will keep the voices down. I'm scared that if I kill myself I will just be stuck with the voices forever. Then what?
Sometimes I run out of space and the voices like that. Without any space I can't take the inner pain away and the voices will become louder.
What if I tried it? I wouldn't have to spend my energy on laughing or smiling. I wouldn't have to try to make my eyes look happy. How would I do it? I wanted it to hurt. I didnt want the voices to be the last thing I hear.
So I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making you hurt. Im sorry fo mqking you watch your daughter grow up into what I am now. A mistake.
I love you.
-Cheyenne
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If your reading this.....THANK YOU!!!!!!!
I will post another chapter if I get three views.
I recently had another book but I deleted it because I didn't like it that much.
Anyway do you guys think it should stay in this form of writing or more talking. .... up to you guys.
Peace
-Sky
