Recovery

Acceptance

Demi's POV-

I stare out of the window as the cars drive around the city and the people walk past with their dark suits from the long day at work and sigh into my cup of tea as its placed to my lips. I scroll down my Tumblr and reblog a few posts of skinny girls in clothes I couldn't afford and readjust my position on my window seat. As I shuffle my sweater slides up my thigh to reveal the ugly scars that litter my skin, I have grown to hate the cuts that cover my body but I know that I can't stop myself from tallying my skin time and time again. I quickly place my sweater back into position and log onto my Facebook, I aimlessy scroll as people I have grown to hate just as much as I hate myself start going on about their lives as if anyone actually cares. Before I realise the sun has disappeared and in it's place sits the moon, I decide to turn off my laptop and climb into bed, I can't handle another sleepless night. I don't think it's normal for a 19 year old girl to be up all night staring up at the ceiling as the demons inside her mind begin to replay the events she wishes to forget with all her heart, mind, body and soul. That's where the problem lies, I can't seem to shake off the embarresment of events that may have happened 2 years ago and in a normal person's eyes these things would be forgetten within 10 minutes of it happening, but no I'm not a 'normal' person. These incidents get bolted into the cogs inside my mind and stay there, only beginning to turn as I wish to close my eyes and forget. Sleep was my only escape and now it seems as if that is gone as well.

When my brain finally gives in and I escape, the messed up machinery inside my mind begins to start churning away and instead of thinking and regretting the decisions I have made, my brain forces me to relive them which is enough to wake me up covered in sweat. I glance at the clock as my breathing begins to steady, 5:23. 5:23 in the fucking morning. This isn't normal, something is seriously wrong here. I climb out of bed as trying to get back to sleep is obviously no longer an option and shuffle to my bathroom. I undress and stare at the tally marks on my skin and the body I have grown to hate and climb into the bath. I enjoy baths a lot, it gives me time to think, I know I think a lot but baths seem to have an opposite effect on the broken machine in my head and allows me to think properly and make rational decisions that are based on logic instead of past experiences and emotions. I allow the warmth and positivity to sink in before deciding enough is enough and climb out. The cold air on my warm skin has an instant impact and I begin to regret the decision to step out. I quickly run to my bed and jump in, I reach for my laptop and login into Tumblr; scrolling through Tumblr also seems to be a way of dealing with my emotions as no matter how I am feeling there will be something on there that relates to the situation or makes my sides hurt from laughing but I know Tumblr won't always be there, there will be times when I get really bad and a humourus pun from Tumblr won't fix it, but for now Tumblr is there.