My Thoughts

Itch

My hand lifts up to the side of my neck the second things get hard. My head insists my nails dig into my skin until it reddens and burns for hours. Instead of asking for help I should just scratch and scratch and scratch and it'll go. When the scratching turns into something alot more sinister is where I said I'll cross the line but people say its not as easy as stopping when you want to. I manage to rip my hand from my neck after hours of vigorous tearing at my skin. I shove the headphones over my head and drop back onto my bed. I lift my tablet and still its frozen on the same thing as when I put it down. I scroll through my messages still no one cares. I message someone and over time as we talk the redness fades slightly, not completely but better. I put down my tanlet and I lift the headphones off of my head. I stand up and my eyesight goes blurry and I lose my balance. I fall back into the radiator and hold onto it for stability. I slowly push myself up from the ground and remind my self to keep it together. Stop being  weak . I slowly stumble toward the door and drag it open. I look through the gap In the door in my mums room. She's crying. Again. She wouldn't be struggling this much for money if I wasn't here. One less  mouth to feed, one less person to please. She would be happier. I turn and move my way into the bathroom. I manage to lift my head up at the mirror in front of me. Disgusting. I wish I didn't have the tear of attention seeking bullshit I put people through in the corner of my eye. I run the tap and i wet my hands and splash some on my face. Stop being weak. You can itch if you want. No one cares enough to stop you. I turn off the tap and look up at the mirror and see what might as well be a movie set. I ain't done this much acting before. I pull a smile up on my face and leave the room. A hand reaches up and scratches at my neck. Succumbing to the itch