You know, cutting is my escape.
When you slice your skin you feel you can escape like you can breathe, but it doesn't last long enough so you do it again.
And again,
and again,
and again,
and again, until the numbness turns into pain.
How you can feel the heaviness of your limbs. The weakness of your body. The blood emptying your arteries taking all you memories and some little amount of happiness you had reserved for this.
Looking at yourself from the ceiling perspective.
How pathetic you look, lying on your bed with a blade in your hand and a smile on your face. It doesn't stop there, some that love's you walk in. Their face is mortified, getting paler as they soak up the sight before them. They run down stairs grabbing the nearest telephone, calling emergency medics. The medics arrived and rush to your room. They shake the blade from your hand.
Checking your heart, bump..........bump..............
They shake their heads, pulling you on the stretcher. They strap you up, ready to transfer you to the nearest morgue. The morgue accepts you; happy to have a new customer. The clean you up, sewing the slits on your wrist and putting you in a jacket. Covering those hideous scars you have.
The one that loved you is arranging you funeral making sure to have everything you loved in your last days. Finding the best picture of you when you were truly happy. Your loved ones and distant family that you didn't know, but they knew you. They cry seeing someone so wonderful lying pale in a casket. The casket lowers, people walk by sprinkling dirt over you as a last good bye. They cover you and go back to their life's. Your grave grows new grass over the brown rectangle. Over the years your head stone is weathered, weeds covering your once significant name that now means nothing to people.
Do you want this to be you? To not be known. To never accomplish anything, but to rot in the ground before you're twenty. When people hear your name they don't smile and think of everything you were they frown thinking of everything you could've been. Don't take this route, it leads to nothing. Make your life count.
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Non-FictionOne action to change everything. One life yet to live. A series of short entities when I felt like I wasn't going to make it to twenty years old. Much of it is incoherent, from a time I cannot even remember as of today. I am now almost 21. My life h...
