Addicted To Pain

 I love pain. Any kind of pain. I usually don't wash my problems away with drugs or alcohol. I wash them away with pain. The pain can be immense pain, or pain like a pin prick. It doesn't matter if the pain is emotional or physical, I'll take it. I'm 17 now, but I've been cutting since I was fourteen. My parents kicked me out when I was 14, too. When they found out I Cut myself, they I couldn't come back until I stopped cutting. I exclude almost everyone from my daily life. It helps me live my life:well, kind of.

Stereotypes... I hate them. But, them again, I'm a hypocrite. I'm your perfect stereotypical emo/goth person. I wear black skinny jeans everyday with a spiked belt, black skater shoes, spiked bracelets to hide my scars, and dark, 'emo-y' shirts everyday. My hair is naturally black, and I have a thick side fringe that covers my gray-blue eyes.

Life sucks. Well, my life sucks anyway. I make my life suck, though. But, sucky lives cause you pain, right? Everyday, I walk around school seeming to be the most depressed human being, but really, I'm just an unhappy girl who needs pain, that's all...

It's my first day of senior year at my new high school. Now, my last high school, we didn't really have cliques, there'd just be groups of friends, unlabeled. I only have a few friends, my choice. And there's a high school that I dread ever going to. The perfect stereotype school with the jocks at one table, cheerleaders, nerds, emos, and outcasts. Yay, I get to be put into a building for six hours, five days a week, with people I will never get along with. That's what I call pain.

 I put on my eyeliner and mascara before getting dressed so my make-up wouldn't get on my clothing, that's my OCD kicking in, even though it wouldn't matter because it would be black on black. I slip on my black, low-rise skinny jeans that are skin tight, a black stretch tank top with the word 'LIARS' written diagonally on the front, in red. It is very cleavage-y, but I don't care. When my razor blade is in my bag, my lip ring is in my lip, and my black DC's are on my fe3et, I head downstairs. I shut the front door of Lilly's condo. Lilly is my mom's best friend's daughter. I start walking. The new high school is really close to my house. It's about a half a mile away. It's windy, so I pull my hood from my hoodie over my head to block the wind.

I arrive in front of a school almost twice the size of my last one. Students are piled up in front of the front doors, blocking my entrance. It doesn't take me long to spot the cliques. The jocks, with a football, are in a group by the basketball court, the nerds are in a group by the cluster of buses by the curb. Surrounding the stairwell leading down to lower campus are the emos and goths. From far away, them and I could be twins. Then, I spot cheerleaders.

The bell rings, and all of the cliques cram into the school. Although it's my first day, it sure isn't theirs. The principal at my old school moved me here in the middle of second quarter. I fast walk down the hallway, trying my best not to get noticed by anyone. I get a variety of looks from many people. When I get to my locker combination, I open up my locker and put my things in it. My first class is gym. Great. I'm going to be forced to undress in front of complete and total strangers.

When I'm in the gymnasium, Mr.Edwards, the gym teacher, tells me he doesn't have an extra gym outfit for me to wear, and that I can just sit gym out for the time being. I'm relived I don't have to undress in front of anyone. Mr.Edward says I can just sit on the the bleachers, and so I do. My hood is once again pulled over my head. Sulked back on the bleachers, I stare down at my hands.

"Hi, I'm Jake." The voice startles me. I look up to see a good-looking, green-eyed boy.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to startle you." Jake apologizes and smirks at me.

"Ivy." I say to Jake.

He's hot. Jake has light brunette hair that's 'skater style'. He's a little bit taller than six foot, and broad shouldered.