Perfect (bxb)

Perfect *7*

Jade Thirlwall as Mira Thomas. Mira is a cute, but strong woman and therefore Jade is a perfect match or is that just my opinion? Little Mix is a group of powerful female singers. I think, they are inspiring and I just love them *-*

Yours truly, author-chan ;D

What happened the last chapter...

I smile apologetically at her. I feel terrible for the trouble, I brought upon Mira and her parents. Isn't it a little bit awkward to have someone unconscious laying on your couch? It's rather uncomfortable to get so much attention right now, it's embarrassing to faint, but it is even more embarrassing to faint, because of something stupid as the fear of getting together with Jake or something along the lines. I don't really get it myself.

I'm so not looking forward to seeing him and his careless smirk again. He hasn't got a clue what he's doing to me. I can't stop myself from getting closer to him, even though I know, it's toxic.

Currently...

Jake's POV

I let my fingers trail across my upper body, scars decorating the pale skin. They are hypertrophic, meaning they're slightly raised from the skin. Most are already white, telling a long forgotten story. They are already one to two years old, the purple ones only a few months to weeks. They're fascinating, yet disgusting. I hate how I was the one to inflict them upon myself. Thinking about this never fails to make my eyes water. I was naive to actually believe, that this would be a solution. Of course, I felt better a short period of time, but the shame and disgust came back faster than expected. Even though I know that now, I couldn't help but relapse every now and then. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm a failure among the mass production of 'perfect' humans.

It was a doom loop. The worse I felt, the more cuts I made, the more anxious I got about being near people. The fear of them discovering my secret nearly ripped me apart. I was ashamed of them. Why couldn't I be just a little bit stronger? Why did I have to resort to hurting myself? I was on an all-time low; I really tried to be happy though. I smiled every day, fooled my family and friends. No one suspected me of anything. I was their sunshine and it wasn't meant to change. It did though and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I was depressed. Depression is a serious mental illness; it's not just a phase of a attention seeking teenage girl. It lured me in and captured me with its dark claws of terror. It's real and it's deadly. I couldn't escape the shackles, that depression put onto me, for a long time and every now and then it still succeeds to entice me. I'm a mere victim of society's destructive power.

These scars denounce me. I wasn't nowhere near being my old self, although I tried so hard. I told the same old jokes, which made people laugh and I smiled so hard it hurt my cheeks, but I couldn't return. Suddenly people thought, I wasn't funny anymore and overall criticized me. I tried to laugh it off, but they said my laugh gets on their nerves. I was very anxious about laughing because of that. Every time I laughed, I stopped shortly after, because of the looks, they gave me. I was a burden. No one noticed it though. Nothing was wrong in their opinion. It isn't possible to turn back the clock and nobody besides me knew that it was necessary.

Memories of how this madness started flood my brains. I could never understand how someone was able to hurt themselves, it wasn't natural. Self-destructive behavior isn't a human habit. I thought: 'Doesn't that scare them?' Because I was scared of inflicting voluntarily pain on myself. The first time I did, I shook uncontrollably. I didn't use razors the first time. I took the red kitchen knife, which was meant to cut solely fruits and vegetables, and locked myself in my room. This night it cut flesh. I tainted it with blood and changed the meaning of the knife. I couldn't look at it with the same eyes after misusing it. I ruined something once again. It was a symbol for me, because I kept dragging others down with me.