runaway - |a.i.|

0.3

I decided to send one. I took several seeing which looked most flattering. Honestly, I've never done this before so I didn't find anything flattering.

I thought harder about it. If I didn't send it, I was afraid he was going to get bored and dump me. I thought this was the right choice, but I felt it was the wrong.

I hesitantly pressed send, double thinking my decisions.

I waited, no response.

I waited 30 minutes, no response.

I waited an hour, no response.

Two, three, four.

I finally went on Facebook and I had a few new messages. Maybe he had gotten his phone taken away and he somehow managed to get on his computer and Facebook message me?

But no, it wasn't him.

I began to cry, the warm, salty tears rushing down my cheeks. I had sent him something so incredibly secretive and he's not even going to reply?

I checked the messages one of them was from Gretchen.

"Stupid Hoe."

My heart beats started to increase rapidly, it hurt. My anxiety took over me. I began to shake ferociously, only causing many more tears to cascade down my face. My typing suddenly becoming terribly messy, coming out as gibberish because of my shaking hands.

I just quickly came up with something and responded with "What?" without thinking, just wanting to get something out.

I looked at another and it was one of Grants friends. I didn't really know him, I only talked to him once. He photoshopped the picture and was making fun of it.

The other was from Bethany.

"Aw, you actually thought we were going to be your friends? That's adorable."

And the last was from Madeline.

"You're pathetic. Go back to your old school you slut."

They weren't my friends, they never were. That's why they acted so fake, other then that they are fake. I should've known, they wouldn't want to be friends with someone like me. I wasn't popular, I never was. He didn't love me, he never loved me. It was all fake, all planned. And stupid me fell for it.

I scrolled down my timeline, seeing all the pictures people tagged me in. It was a range from my nudes, to photoshopped ones, to hate mail. There were people telling me to kill myself.

The thought crossed my mind. I was going to. I have to.

How would I tell mom that I sent my nudes to a guy I just recently started to date? How could I go to school with all this weight on my shoulders, the whole school against me? I have no where else to go, besides to be gone forever.

I rummaged through a box and found a blade. I ran to my bathroom, locking myself in. I was choking out tears, spitting and whining.

I couldn't live with this anymore.

I looked at myself in the mirror, I was a mess. My hair is knotted, my eyes were red from crying, I was frowning, mascara running down my red cheeks, my mouth curved downwards. I was hideous.

My hair was ugly, my face was ugly, my body, my clothes. Every part of me was ugly. I hated myself.

I ran the the cold, lifeless razor across my skin, carving patterns into my arm. It calmed me. The blood dripping down my arm and onto the flood is what reminded me I was alive because lately, I wasn't sure anymore. It calmed me, but also made me cringe, reminding me of my past.

I went crazy, there were new slits everywhere.

I felt a little lightheaded, but I tried to assure myself that I was fine. I tried to stand up and tie a rag around my wrist to stop the bleeding. Everything got a little blurry and dark, then went black.

☠☠☠☠

SORRY ITS CRAPPY AND SHORT AND BORING BUT ITS ABOUT TO START WHOOP WHOOP

IM CURRENTLY LISTENING IF IM JAMES DEAN YOURE AUDREY HEPBURN ACOUSTIC AND ITS BEAUTIFUL