Blue Lily

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I took a deep breath as the blade slid against my left wrist, pushing it harder and grasping the handle as my hand sweated. I hated the look of how I hurt myself, but the feeling it caused relieved so many emotions that I couldn't even begin to describe. My arms were covered with deep cuts, little scratches, and words that expressed how I felt.

My mother was too melodramatic, she always cringed at papercuts, and splinters, so showing my open wounds would be too much for her. Whenever me and my mother would come into contact I'd always pull down my sleeves and grab them at the ends incase they rolled up. I don't think she's ever clicked on that part of me wants to disappear into a black hole, but she doesn't pay that much attention to me anyways.

I closed my eyes, and imagined my whole life completely different, living in a new place, with different parents who actually cared about what I wanted to be, and how they're actions caused consequences for me. They never get me, I couldn't expect them to either. I was never a good child, or a child who achieved awards for outstanding work, I was different. Quiet, but different.

"Lily, have you seen my small black handled knife?" mother questioned me as I grabbed a glass of apple juice. "Not a clue" I muttered. If I wasn't so hurtful to myself, the knife wouldn't have a link to me at all. I wouldn't use it other than what I use it for now.

My phone beeped and vibrated in my pocket. I didn't really have 'true friends' they were all too bitchy to be true. I just chilled with them at breaks and lunches, I'd say I was quite popular for my school, I mean theres quite a lot of, umm... geeks. Gosh, I hate that word. It sounds so stereotypical.