The blood spills to the floor from the open wounds that were sliced by a silver blade across my wrist. Sometimes the pain helps me by distracting myself from the stress and all that goes on. I take the blade in my hand and press on my aching skin that begs for me to stop but I push past it and continue going deeper. Sometimes seeing the discomfort of my skin being slowly ripped apart is my only way I can still tell I'm alive in this asylum i call my home.

My name is Elyar-Sky. I am seventeen years old and this is my life, an endless battle of fighting for the daily breath to live. I attend a small high school that seems to be in the middle of nowhere. It's a dull, lifeless little place some like to call it a ghost town. The school is full of people, zombies in other words that couldn't care about anyone but themselves. You could say I am the odd one out, different, a shadow, the wallflower. I hide in the background, out in the darkness just trying to hide from attraction towards myself. The fear is forming a knot in my stomach, twisting and curling, the numbing, sick feeling is rising, taking me over. I feel like I am on the edge of a cliff with no bottom, an abyss, knowing that someone will push me that little bit over never to be seen again. Just left as a faint memory of a broken dead girl.

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