Alexander

16

I slowly crawled out of bed. My stomach was bruised, my ass hurt, my head hurt, and I couldn't take that voice in my head. The one that tells me no one cares. I stumbled into the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. My eyes were shadowed by enormous bags, my hair was a rat's nest. I had loads of tiny bruises covering my face.

Great.

No one's gonna like you looking like this.

No one's gonna kiss you if you look like this.

No one's gonna like me anyway.

I stared into the mirror for a few more minutes, slowly becoming more and more depressed about my appearance and social status. I didn't want to do it again. I never did. But it wouldn't stop.

Cut.

Do it.

You deserve it.

I opened the cabinet door. And right there, behind the bottles of meditation were my blades. I took my best one out, twirling it around in my fingers.

One cut.

Red across my forearm.

One cut for everything you've done wrong.

Blood dripped from my right arm.

One cut.

Blood covered my entire arm.

One more.

I stared at my arm in horror, the pain just now kicking in. I stumbled backwards, fumbling with the sleeve of my hoodie. I bumped into the door, and walked towards the tub. I pushed myself against it, nursing my arm.

And then it was black.

-

I've been busy with long band rehearsals, I'm sorry. I have a rehearsal tonight, and then a concert. After today I don't have any more, so I'll be more frequent with updates (hopefully).