As I stared into the mirror, a sudden anger came over me and I throw the mirror against the wall. As I sank onto my bed, head in my hands, my mother came in. "Are you ok?" She asks looking at my wall, where the mirror was smashed. She picks up one of the shards of glass. "Do you wanna tell me why you did this?" I shake my head slowly. "No, not really." I get up and take the shard from her hand and lay it on my bedside table for later. I close my eyes and feel my mom sit next to me. She lays a hand on my arm. "Look at me." I look up through my hair. "Yes?" I ask. "Do you wanna talk?" She puts her thumb under my chin and lifts my head so I'm looking straight into her eyes. I move my head so it's resting on her shoulder. "I'm not sure I want to yet. Sorry." I lift my head and curl my arms around my legs, and rest my head on my knees. "Ok. Later, maybe?" She gets up, her hand still on my arm. "Yea, ok." She leaves my room. I pick up the shard of glass and rub the smooth part between my fingers. I take the sharp part and press a little against my arm. NO!! Stop! Take the glass AWAY from your arm!!! My thoughts yell at me. I try to block them out while putting more pressure on the glass. It pricks my skin, and a little bit of blood drips off my arm. PUT IT DOWN!!!! 'WHY?!' I answer to my thoughts. I throw the shard of glass down onto my bed. I stare at my wall where my posters of My Chemical Romance, and all my favorite rock bands were. I felt regret about ever smashing the mirror, and for my instinct to harm myself whenever things go bad, or to have a breakdown, or everything just goes down. Sometimes I just get so negative about things that are happening and my walls come up. I just start to sink into the abyss of sadness that is part of my life. I need help. I think sadly. I pick up all the shards of glass, some scratching my hands. I go downstairs and throw them away. Now, there is nothing bad that can hurt me in this room. I think proudly. Then I notice the pair of small scissors on my window sill, where I left them when I last used them. Shoot! I walk over to my window sill and grab them. The feeling of having something sharp in my hands was almost too much for me. Just do it. It's so easy, just put it against your wrist and slice! I run out of my room silently and stop just outside my door. With a little clatter, the scissors fall from my fingers as I stare at the wall across from me. On the wall, was an old picture of me. I had short dark hair w/ bangs, I was wearing a purple top and blue jeans. I turn away from the old school picture and dash into my room, where I flop onto my bed and turn my music up loud to drown out the sounds of the world. I pick up my drawing book and flip through it. Wow. My drawings were so odd back then. One of my drawings had been a knife looking kind of weapon. I close my eyes and lie down and think. I'm ok, I'm Ok, I'M OK! I'm not really... I slam my fist down on my bed. "I'm Ok, I'm OK!" I say quietly. My life just seems to close in on itself. I pick up my drawing book and start sketching. I start to draw a teenager who has long, black hair with bangs that fall into her eye. She's got big blue eyes, and skinny but not sickly skinny. She's got a small button nose and small but full lips. She has a shirt that says 'Scars are just tattoos, but with a better story.' I start to sketch the thin little lines on her arm, but stop, because it just reminds me of myself. I erase the little lines on her arm, and leave them blank except some bracelets. Then I add a little ear piercing on the top of her ear, and a little nose ring, and lip ring. There. Wait... I erase the ear piercing. There. That's better. I think proudly. Then I start on her clothes. I draw a pair of very skinny black jeans. I label the drawing 'Warped Tour Outfit'. I add a black tattoo choker. I flip the page and start sketching some tattoos. I start with one of my favorites.
