Keep quiet or the demons will find you, but keep silent and the pain will kill you. Oh, god. The demons are back. They're tempting you, giving you images of those beautiful lines up and down your wrist, blood pooling and dripping from your wrist.
Sometimes, in those weak moments, you cut deeper and hiss in pain as you feel the beautiful warmth and freezing cold of the blade and the blood. Sometimes, thoughts invade your mind. 'No one can save me' you think. 'No one wants me' you say under your breath and you take the blade, your hands and the metal covered with the red liquid dripping from your wrists.
On your hips and legs are scars, not meant. But the small scratches that terrfied you to make were constantly hit against objects. Chairs, tables, walls. They all mutilated those cuts, opening them deeper and deeper each time. Your hips are goners.
Your body is the victim of your self-hatred. It's shown on your face differently though. That fake smile you've not dared practice in the mirror because if you even glance at the glass, you will see every mistake 'God' made. And yeah, you're an Atheist. So what? No reason to hate on someone like you who's already dying.
At school, it a constant charge of 'Bitch' 'whore' 'slut' 'fat ass'... Anything those idiots can come up with 'on their own'. At school, the girls slap you and kick you, but you pretend. Oh how you pretend that nothing's wrong. Your face is red because 'I was asked out today' when really every boy can't stand to look at your overweight ugliness. There, in that hell hole, is where you wish you could hang yourself in the bathroom and let that girl Irene and that other one.. What's her name? Imani? And... Chasity? And, don't forget, Adrianna. You want them to find you. You want to write your suicide note on the stall wall and let them find out how come you were swinging there.
You want Bo to think it was the cat. But you don't even HAVE a cat anymore. But inside, you're hoping he doesn't believe your lie as you smile. You're hoping he realizes you cut yourself, trying soo hard to kill youself. You're hoping soooo badly he sees your cry for help as what it really is! Who knows? Maybe he does know?
Tonight, you have decided there's no point in you living and you should write something like this and you should use this as your suicide note, letting them figure out how horrible they really are... And this is where you say goodnight. Maybe in a year, you'll still be here (2.16.14) and you'll be able to write more on this. So goodnight, you say, because that's all you can manage anymore...
