Warning: This is about self harm. I apologize if this offends anyone. No hateful comments please.
It coiled around me wrapping me in a dark dreary curtain of despair. What do you do when the only battle you're fighting is fought against yourself. What do you do when you are so scared and desperate that the only way to escape is to end it. End the battle. It had been days since I slept. You could call it insomnia if you wanted to. But I called it life. I would go days at a time without sleeping. Staying awake to hear myself tell me how bad I was, how ugly, how sad. How somedays I wasn't even worth the air I stole from the universe. I would stay awake, and when my alarm clock went off I would hide it all. The dark purple bags under my eyes, the puffiness from tears. All of it under a mask of concealer. A very fitting name because it concealed who I really was. A wreak.
I walked the halls of hell at school. Learning nothing, barely passing tests, and anxiety ridden speeches. It was never this bad but I guess this is just what high school does to you. Makes you tell yourself you're not worth the life you're living. It was sad how I spent my nights crying, and my days testing how long I could hold my breathe. I couldn't take it anymore, I was drowning in my own pit of sorrow.
That night the razor connected with my wrist for the last time.
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Stories I'll never finish
RandomThese are stories I'll probably never finish, just start or have random scenes of. Don't steal my words. they are still mine if I finish them or not. They are mostly sprints from the most dangerous writing app.
