Not Everything Has A Happy Ending

Dear Diary

It was past midnight, I checked that my parents had gone to sleep before retreating into the bathroom to get my razor. The day before had been a though day and it had all been my fault, my pain wasn't going to get better any time soon. I slowly and quietly rolled my sleeve up and felt the cold metal brush against my burning skin.

In the morning I wore long sleeves and jeans. I always wear long sleeves and jeans that go past my knees. My scars are ugly and I don't want people to stare and judge me. I know I shouldn't care but it affects me.

My old friends would always ask why I was always cooped up in my house and my family would ask why I'm always in my room. I ignored them because if they actually cared they would have done something about it.

My dad was always at work and he worked long hours. When he came home, which was roughly around 8.00pm, he would shout and sometimes hit me. I felt so sad, every night before I went to bed I took pills; painkillers, weight loss and sleeping pills. They didn't do anything apart from send me to sleep.

Sleep was amazing, it was my get away from the real world. Only when I had good dreams though, when I had nightmares that was a different story. I would always wake up scared, after nightmares I felt like crying but no tears would come out. I never got much sleep and when I did I was in the worst mood the next day.

Was it any better? I hope so