Random OneShots

papercut

My head hurts so much.

When will it go away.

I want it to end.

I want to die.

-

"This is what you're going for, eh?"

"Don't touch my things."

A head rose. Eyes met.

"Hey I wasn't trying to get on your bad side-"

I pushed his hand away. His lips wavered.

"If you were going to be so sensitive about it- ugh I don't care. I'm not even interested."

He kicked my drawings onto the floor and spat on them. He slammed the door as he left.

I was sitting in silence, my sketches now crumpled laid before my eyes.

I picked them up, one by one, and put them on my bed side to look at.

Faded. Blurry. Torn up. Dirty. The art I made was a representation of me.

My fingers trembled over the edges of the paper, feeling the sharpness cut through my index finger til blood dripped down my hand.