Many think that the first cut was the deepest. But in fact, it wasn't. No, not at all. It was like the rest of them, a subtle rip in anxious skin, a gentle pulse of sin. Just enough to hush the demons, the demons screaming inside my head. But this time, they wouldn't shut up. It wasn't good enough for them, just kept howling, like mama did when she was crying out for help on the bedroom floor.
The worst thing that could have happened was the realization that i'm slowly and surely starting to resemble my mama more and more each and every day. Falling in and out of the blue, then waking up into the white. That day, i was afraid and over the demons inside my head.
I decided to give myself the sharpest, cleanest knife i could find. I asked it to bite a little harder than the rest, chew a little deeper.
The hot, scarlet rush felt delightful.
i couldn't stop there.
The blade might have reached my flesh and bones, but i wanted to continue until my arm was once no more.
The shrieking screams of my little sister, Melanie, will forever haunt me. The sight of all the blood covering the tiled floor, the sink and the porcelain bathtub. Everything, oh everything, was stained pink.
I wanted to die, i wish i would have got my wish.
YOU ARE READING
Addiction.
أدب المراهقينGrab the razor, cut deeper. grab tissues, cry more. grab pills, get higher. take the gun, pull the trigger. Maybe we're all crazy here.
