Hey guys,
I want to apologize now for slow updates. I'm in a rough place, and I just can't concentrate. I recently found out I am bipolar. It has been hard, but I'm not here for your condolences.
I really wanted this on here so I can tell you this: there is a great possibility that this story will contain memories- and possibly new encounters- of self-harming. I know this happens in most fanfics- for invalid reasons- and I don't want this story to end up like that. I am writing about this because I have experienced self-harm first hand.
I don't want this to be triggering. That's the last thing I want. I am writing this to show people that there is a way you can overcome this, even though my character conquering this habit is a figment of my imagination.
I feel like the incorporation into this story will be hard on me and anyone of you who have dealt with self-harm. I was in remission for three months, until last night. This will be natural for me, something I understand.
Last night was something I will not forget. April 23, 2014. I was fine for three months, because of these books. I could let out anger or disappointment in a form of art. Last night, that art resulted in a painting.
My skin is a canvas, holding a story behind every stroke and disfiguration. My blood is paint, deep crimson and staining the canvas it lays upon. My razor is a paint brush, leaving strokes so delicate and bold, making horror a beautiful sight.
Again, I do not want your condolences. This is merely for my own venting, but you can always talk to me about anything; even if it is just how your day was. Truth is, I haven't talked to many people in a long time. It'd be nice to talk to all of you.
To someone special, I'm sorry this is how you had to find out I broke. You knew it was coming, though. You always knew. Thank you, for being there for me over all this time. I've known you for over a year. It feels more like a lifetime.
I love you all so much. You guys, plus music, is the reason I am still breathing. I could be dead and gone, but instead I am right here telling you something only one person knows. Thank you for your support. Especially to those who were reading TAFMN when there were only three chapters. God, did they suck.
I love you guys so much. Never look back into the past. As All Time Low says, "Live and Let Go." You keep me smiling with your lovely comments. Thanks guys. I can't say it enough.
~Emma x
YOU ARE READING
Stories In The Morning, But Legends Tonight| m.g.c
Hayran Kurgu{Book 2} He was like a summer breeze; one minute he was there-the next, he was gone. He was like the autumn leaves; falling unexpectedly. He was like the winter freeze; feeling cold and lifeless, but still holding a flicker of warmth. He was like t...
