I put down my phone. So many mean messages apear the night before. I can't take it. I break.
I pull my razor from its little case near my bed. I keep it in a case so nobody knows. The razor's already blood stained and scratched.
I pull down my leather cuffs and and rubber bracelets, revealing scars. Time to make more scars!, I thought.
I set the edge of the blade on my wrist and push down. Then, I quickley drag it across. The feeling is amazing.
After about eight cuts, I stop. My wrists are bloody and my razor is stained. A slight stinging sensation comes, but I don't mind.
Then, comes the worst part. I hop into bed and the stinging gets a million times worse. I feel like crying.
I put on a back and forth mix of When You Can't Sleep At NIght by Of Mice And Men and Savior by Black Veil Brides. I fall asleep crying and thinking about hiw awful I am.
I wake up the next morning and look at my cuts. Satifacyion yet depressed sorrow. Then, I jump into a hot shower and fall. The cut pain hurts all over again and it will for thw next ten years without anyone knowing....
YOU ARE READING
Inside The Mind of A Harmer
PoesiaPoems about my life and my issues. *TRIGGER WARNING*