Dear Ana

Soon

     Julia gripped her eyes shut and spun around, slamming her fist into the wooden frame of her bed. She did this when she couldn't cut, purge, or use her laxatives. She would punch her feelings away. When she was younger she was in boxing. She could use that to take her anger away. Now she only had her fists and whatever would come into contact
Can you imagine that? You have so much pain but no one around you decides you're worth the help do you stick to harming yourself to feel pain that is just a little bit different from the pain in your heart.
Julia examined her fists. Blood dropped down her knuckles. She wiped it away with the hem of her sleeve and let out a shaky breath. She walked downstairs. She had finished babysitting and once again the family decided to leave her home while they went out for family time.
She didn't mind. It was going to be the night she would end it all anyways.
She sat down in the bathroom and looked at the blades on the sink. Ready for her to use them.
She took hold of it and looked at the smooth metal.
Her skin was waiting for it.
Almost like a canvas in fact. The blade was the brush and her skin the blank canvas. Expect it wasn't so blank anymore.
She closed her eyes and cut a few small cuts for preparation to what needed to be done.
Julia mustered up the courage to place the blade at the base of her wrist when her phone lit up.
Aliya texted. :you okay? You didn't text all day. Something's off today.
Julia closed her eyes and pressed the blade to her skin. She didn't want to do this to Aliya. The only person who showed her compassion. Yet she knew that she needed to.
No one needed her life drama in theirs. It only seemed to make others lives harder.
Seriously Julia. What's up? Answer me.
Julia heard the door open downstairs.
"Julia! We're home!" One of the kids called.
Julia felt tears roll down her cheeks. She couldn't let them see her in this state. They wouldn't understand.
She set the blade in her hiding place and pressed her hand to the cuts she had already made. "I'm upstairs! Give me a minute!" She called. Trying to cover the waved in her voice.
She washed her arms and cleaned them. She splashed her face. She looked a mess. Tired, hungry, and ready for death to take hold.
She always stopped.
Maybe she just wasn't strong enough.
But one day, one day very soon, she would be.