She stays up late to talk to that one person she trusts the most. They have special, secret conversations. She'll secretly cry while she talks but won't tell him because she doesn't want him to worry about her. He has enough to worry about, personal family things and school. She doesn't want to seem like a bother, another burden for him to carry. To her, he's the hero. The one she looks up to and admires. The one she loves but is afraid to tell the world about, scared of being called foolish and stupid. She see's him as a protector and a fighter. A strong person she can follow. She knows where she stands with him and he never puts her down. He's strong, but one day he might need a hero. He might need to be saved. She wants to be that hero.
He's the one that chases away the nightmares and the bad days. He makes everything better. She can't help but smile when she sees his name, but when he's depressed she feels alone. She can't help crying and running to the bathroom. She'll grab her secret friend that's hidden there. Gently pressing it against her skin, getting used to the cold metal blade. Then applying more pressure and quickly dragging it across her skin. She'll cry as she watches the blood slowly seep out of the small wound. She repeats this process multiple times a night, sometimes only twice a week. She tries to keep it reserved for when she's desparate. She drags the cold, metal blade across her sensitive wrists, shoulders, and thighs. She only thinks twice once she's done and can't take it back. So she cries more and quickly shoves her friend back in its hiding. She'll go back to texting and acting like it never happened.
So she sits on her bed, reading messages from her hero, and cries alone until it's late. She never sleeps well without knowing there's been peace with them. She thinks its her mission to be there for others and help them, but how can she help others when she can barely help herself? How can she help and support them when she cuts late at night and begs for it to end? She reminds herself nonstop that he's always there but dreads telling him what she's done. He is her hero, but he can't save her from this.
YOU ARE READING
Worthless
Non-FictionDo you know what it really feels like? She does. It is all she's ever known, and she is me.