My whole life, my friends and family, drummed into my head: don't cut yourself. Don't hurt yourself. You are beautiful just the way you are.
Oh but you see, a fat girl can't be beautiful right?
I wasn't that fat. I wasn't even really chubby. If I could loose even a few pounds, four or five, I would be good. But you see, girls are cruel creatures.
They will tear you down, rip you to pieces, leave you crying in the dirt, just so they think that they're better than you.
Oh yes. Girls can be monsters.
They tell you to paint. Paint a pretty picture they say.
Here's a paintbrush.
They whispered to you, yet they hold out a knife. Confused you take it, wondering how you're supposed to paint with it.
What about paint?
You ask them. Don't worry, they say, it'll come soon enough.
What about a canvas? Or paper?
You ask them. They just turn and look at each other, giving each other that look: Oh my goodness she's so stupid. They take hold of your wrist.
Paint.
They say.
Then you understand. You try to stop, but it's too late. The blade is already sinking in your skin, it's ripping through your flesh. You scream out in pain, wishing for it all to be over, but more blood just rolls out.
See we told you the paint would come.
They tell you, but you wish it never came. You drop the bloody blade to the ground, and clutch to your wrist.
But nothing changes, and you paint some more. Each leaving a larger scare than before.
How you wish you could stop, but you keep paining.
Why?
Because girls can be such cruel monsters.
But you see, every once in a while you meet a wonderful person. A person that opens the world for you, and shows you, you have one life. Don't forget to live it. A person that takes away your paintbrush and hands you a marker. A person that bandages your wrist, and gives you paper. A person that tells you, you don't need that paint.
Oh how wonderful these people are, if only there were more of them.
The people who tell you you're worth it until you believe it. The people who give the warmest of hugs, and even though you don't want to sleep, don't want to rest, or do anything of the sort. When you're with them, their arms wrapped around you and your head leaning on them, you feel ok. You feel safe, and looking up at that face that saved you. Saved you from the painting that could have killed you, only two words go through your mind:
Please stay.
