I sit alone on my bed staring up at my ceiling, wondering, wanting to run away, confused, and conflicted. I never used to be like this. I used to talk it out. I wonder why this is? Maybe it's because no one can help. Maybe because nobody wants to listen or maybe because I'm a burden. I look over to a crappy collage of me and my "friends" and "family". I can't take it. I get up and walk over with soft steps and a calm face. I reach the collage, I start to breathe deeper and faster, I just can't take it. I slowly pull my trembling arms up to it, I reached a little higher to reach the top. With one swift motion I yank it out of the wall nail and all. I stop with the pictures scattered around my feet,I smash it again and again and again on my dresser til there's nothing left to smash. I start to yell and in another swift but powerful swipe push all of my stuff off of my dresser. I then yank down my curtains flip my bed and in just a matter of a couple of minutes my room is trashed. I sit on what's left of my bed and look down at the torn photos and flipped dresser and I stood in front if my mirror pull up my shirt, look at the scars on my stomach. I drop my shrt, and I balled my bleeding hand into a ball and punch my mirror, I hate my reflection. I sit on the floor once again and gaze into the ceiling, I blanked my mind. No worries. No fears. No thoughts.
