Scarlett Wrists||wattys2016

Part 4

"One old song, a thousand old memories"

People ask her what it's like. What is it like to tear your own skin? What is it like to not eat anything for days? She would reply "it's addicting and once you star you can't stop"

It takes strength to live and thrive but she doesn't have any. It takes strength to fight a challenge but she doesn't have any. So tell me how she is supposed to keep fighting if she doesn't have any strength.

There are poems growing inside of her. Poems full of sadness and rage. She tries to write them down but they are burning right through the page.

She doesn't know how to tell people she's broken without sounding needy. She doesn't know how to open up without feeling judged. She just want people to see that she's hurting without saying anything.

She hates the nights where she feels hollow inside. She feels so damn empty and out of place. She hates the nights where her mind wanders into the unknowns and returns with sadness.

She hates counting the tears that run down her face and collect on her pillow. She hates how the only thing she has to comfort her is her loneliness. And the only thing surrounding her is the darkness.

She's a lonely girl with vacant stares. She's screaming in silence but no one cares. Her pain goes unnoticed. No one can tell. She smiles like an angel but is living in hell.

Her eyes brim with madness. She cuts her own skin. Her sad little smile fades and grows thin. Scars on her body. Scars on her soul. This hateful world takes its tolls.

She used to be good at pushing her emotions away. They didn't belong in this world where things are temporary. But then they came all rushing back to the surface. People left her all alone.

She cried all night. She cried her lonely self to sleep. And when she woke up mascara was on her face. Her pillow was stained black.

Depression stole her education. Depression stole her friends. It stole her motivation and her dreams. It stole her future and her life. Depression stole her.

To her the mirror shows someone fat. Suddenly wrists become paper. The scale becomes the enemy. Suddenly pencil sharpeners become friends. And pillows are for tears. Suddenly life is worthless.

Blood is relief. And sleep is escape. Suddenly meals become torture. Her friends become fake. Makeup becomes necessary. Everything to her is now ugly.

She remembers when she was young. When she was excited to become a teenager partying until 5 in the morning. It's quite ironic because little did she know she would be hysterically crying debating whether to take her life or not.

She likes to be left alone. But it hurts when people don't notice her absence. She knows it's her own fault for becoming invisible. For isolating herself. Just once she wants someone to notice and truly care.

She only feels truly loved by her loneliness. It's always there for her at 2 am when she can't sleep and she's in tears. When she's locked in her room holding her blade falling apart. Loneliness is her new best friend.

Her paper heart was torn in two. The pieces falling on the dirty floor. People walked out stepping on the broken heart. Her paper heart no longer has a beat. She's trying to pick up the pieces but there to far apart.

She tried explaining why she was so sad but nothing would come out. Then she realized she didn't know either.