Worthless

Music

When she was younger she was innocent. Innocent of nasty, horrible, deadly thoughts. Innocent of harmful deeds. She used to sing and dance to everything. She never heard songs of suicide like Last Resport by Papa Roach. She grew up with christian music. She listened to it every day. She loved hearing people sing as she hummed the tune quietly. As she got older she heard more music. She got from her favorite channel. She never knew what the music meant. She never thought it would mean so much to her now.

As she grew up, her taste changed. She stopped loving christian music and listened to suicide songs, depression songs, anything that matched her mood. She never explains why she likes them. She doesn't let her parents hear it. She started to let it rock her to sleep. She never parted with it. Everywhere she went she had music with her. It became her life. Slowly she started understanding it. She slowly found a meaning to the song, gave it a background, a meaning.

So when she's not able to talk to her hero, her friends, or anyone about anything, she listens to the music. If you can't find her, go out into nature and you'll find her, hidden under the trees, listening to music and quietly humming or singing the tune. It's her only safe, friendly escape. There may be glass surrounding her, but you don't see blood near her or on her body. She's moved them away so she can sit and listen. While she listens, there are no problems. She doesn't think about cutting, suicide, or even hatred. Her fears are gone and there's a small hope.

This is her escape from reality. Where she's accepted no matter what she thinks. She's accepted for her sexuality, her scars, her suicidal mind. She finally feels free from her cage.