And there is she another night, with her fingers on the keys to not touch the blade, with loud music to not listen to her suicidal thoughts. She doesn't know what to write; she only wants to word how she feels, but it's impossible. Nor she understands her own soul. And how could she? It wasn't about the blood, nor the pukes or fasts, not about she was alone or felt alone, not even about the fucking studies. No one understands it, no. They just can't. Because, although the world can be shitty -and it is-, and even if good things not always make bad ones worth it, there will always be good things; those little moments when everybody is happy. It's been a while since they don't make it worth for her, but she also doesn't enjoy that insanity -or sanity, because she feels insane- moments. No, it is that constant discomfort that floods her days, that makes her scream quietly until she's voiceless in her own mind. Good things don't seem to do a thing with her; she can pass an exam, be given a present or see someone especial and being happy in some way; but always -ALWAYS- there is that dark part in her mind that remembers her that she's still trapped inside that anguish well. And she needs to get rid of it in any way, but she doesn't achieve it. She remembers how she used to spend every day crying, how the tears seemed to never end; now she only can miss it, that way to vent, being able to cry not over a vodka bottle. Alcohol became her only ally until the first ambulance came. Not even it managed to stand her for much time. But it wasn't a surprise for her that no one does it... she was darkness herself; dressed up with cotton, but you could always see her black edges. At least, the discomfort had become a habit, but what could she say about the ups and downs... That sudden joy that would fall down in a couple of minutes -or even seconds- making her bite the dust six meters below her usual hell. And six times did the blade go through her skin, drawing red tears, the only ink that reflected her feelings, her little huge disaster, which she couldn't -nor she had the strength to keep trying to- escape.
