Head Strong.

Snow Painted Red.

Then I took off. I knew it wasn't the best thing, running from that prick, but seriously, the city air, had way to much city flavour then I could stand!

"That motherfucking, little, basterd, son of a Hell God! Can't he see that he's a prick that needs a good punch, and slap in the face?! Oh! Even better! A kick in the crown jewels! If that doesn't work, well then someone get me a weapon! Argh! I really couldn't have just stayed with Marc, could I? Next holidays, I'm asking Uncle Al if I stay at his place, because this is bullshit. I'm an Aussie! This isn't right!" I thought. "I don't belong here in the USA. There's to much damn class and I probably won't fit in here anyway! There's nothing for me here! Why I do I even bother! Argh! That's it! Where's that blade...I know I had put it in one of my pockets- there it is!"

I looked down at my hand. I was holding the blade alright. Oh my gosh the amount of blood that was gushing out. I just watched it. I wasn't fazed. I see this sort of thing all the time at school in class. It didn't sting. I looked down at my wrist.

When I showed my Uncle my wrists when he first came over, I had covered it up with a concealer. Now, I just used my thumb to wipe some of it away. It would have been a horrid sight for a random passer-by.

When people see what I've done to myself, they call me attention whore and all that.

Some mother fuckers just don't fucking know.

I sat on the side of the road and just watched the red paint run down the canvas of my wrist and the length of my arm.

Checking that no one was around, I took hold of the blade and just went nuts. I was used to it, so it didn't hurt, like it would have hurt a first timer.

When I was done, I took a tight hold of the blade. I held it in my hand that tight it cut a bit of my thumb.

"This has got to stop."

Then I threw it.

"Be gone, unholy beast!"

I didn't care if anyone saw what I had done. I didn't know anyone here so I guess I was safe.

I can just see what will happen when I get home.

"What the fuck happened to your wrist?!"

"Oh, nothing. Just some psycho came and attacked me."

Like they would believe that!

"How safe is this street?"

Oh well.

Shit happens.

I got up, and wiped some of the blood off my canvas with the underside of my shirt. The blood only showed through a little bit but not that much. Then I started walking back. I usually walked fast, but today, I just couldn't be fucked.

I decided to just walk slowly. "In with the earphones!"

"...I open my eyes, I try to see but I'm blinded...By the white light..."

"Simple Plan! Yeah buddy!"

I started dancing on the street, and tapping my fingers in mid-air with the rhythm. I don't care what people think of me. I do what makes me happy.

Bitches can judge.

Doesn't effect me.