Broken Walls

C. 1

I'm hating my story Long Sleeves right now, the story line is far to predictable and unoriginal.

So basically, I'm making a new predictable unoriginal story.

I found this story in an old notebook of mine, horribly written with terrible handwriting, so I've decided to re-write the first chapter and see where this goes from there.

Some parts of this story may sound like I'm talking but its not me unless its bold.

K see ya and maybe enjoy?

~R

~~~~~

I'm going to start this off by saying, I've never done something like this before.

I've never written in a diary or Journal about my day or something, much less what I'm about to tell you.

Now this might be something new for a reader to hear from the author, I have no idea how this story is going to end, even though I'm writing this from somewhere near the end of this 'book'.

I'm gonna jump right in, saying; "I self-harm." and you will soon know why.

I'm not going to explain why because each scar holds a different reason.

But I will say that I've made a list, A long one... from post notes to torn pieces of my mother's scrap booking paper, pages stapled on the wall in my bedroom, behind my Panic! poster.

They all have a drawing on them. Each one different. Each scar having some unique beauty to them that I try to capture while it's at it's most visible. Angry red lines drawn on papers with a small filled out description underneath each drawing. My most resent;

Reason: Deserved it.

Date: 11/29/2013

Tool: Xacto Knife

How long: 15 minutes after trigger.

My longest record for not running straight to my bathroom and pulling out my weapon of choice, was 1 hour and 46 minutes and I'm still proud of my 14 year old self even after two years of occasionally trying to beat my record at the sick little game I play.

It started on my hands, stupid place, I know. I thought if its was obvious enough, nobody would question me, thinking it was some accident. Which worked, very well. Working my way from 'papercuts' to waking up in a pool of crimson on my bathroom floor had happened at an alarming rate. And I loved it.

It was about the...? Third...? maybe forth time I woke up like that, that my sister, Cassie, had decided come in to wake me up and tell me she made breakfast.

When she thought I must of been getting ready, she knocked on my connected bathroom door and asked if she could come in.

When I stayed silent, hoping she would go away, she knocked again, warned me that she was coming in, then opened the door only to step back and cover her mouth.

"....J-Jamie...? ....What did y-you do..?"

"What's it look like?" I had answered groggily.

She had now entered again and crouched down next to me to inspect my deep wounds with wide eyes.

"Oh God.... W-why would you do this?"

And I answered with the most truthful answer I could muster;

"I deserved it."

She now woke me up every morning on the verge of tears and wrapped up my wounds. Cassie gave me a long hard hug every morning and would beg me not to do it again every night.

I have to admit, she made me feel pretty guilty, but this was my way of coping with a world that hates me and I wasn't going to stop any time soon.

If anyone other than Cassie knew how much I hurt myself, the very fact that I have drawn blood from my skin on purpose would have me thrown into the place for crazy people for sure.

I wasn't crazy.

I simply liked the control.

My Parent's would be known as 'The Physco's Boy's Mom' or 'Dad' whichever. And I wasn't so selfish as to attract any bad, unwanted, attention to them, even though we didn't get along anymore.

The first thoughts of harming myself started from stupid little things, before the bullying, an embarrassing slip in class would be enough to have me over thinking and pulling out my blade at home that night. I never actually did it in those days though. I just stared at the shiny piece of metal in my hand, that tiny little voice in the back of my head was telling me it wasn't worth it and not to so much as hold the sharp object to my skin, and it was enough to have me put it in back in the long drawer of my desk.

The first scar was added because of some asshole who moved later that year. Bryce has always 'teased' me about not ever getting or having a girlfriend, and eventually he got the idea that I was gay stuck in his head and one day he went so far as to write 'Faggot' on my locker in black permanent marker. I had tried so hard to get it off, but it was useless. The Daily reminder was there when I went to get my books, it was like a punch to the face that I was an outcast now. Bryce had convinced the school that I was gay and everyone was in on the joke, knowing he was making 'fun' but I still lost my friends as they jokingly said they "Didn't want to catch it." meaning they didn't want to be bullied to. Some friends they were.

So sitting alone once again, silently eating my lunch in a far away corner of the school yard, I thought of something I'd never thought of before. And after mustering up my courage, I came out to my parent's two months later. And I was never treated the same again.

The people I thought I could always trust had looked sympathetic and told me I was wrong. That I was confused. My 14 year old self was determined for them to believe me and then, feeling brave, I told them about a crush on a boy in my class and my parents called my teachers the next day, telling them not to allow me sit with that boy anymore.

Word got around at school and I was treated like some kid with a severely contagious disease that day.

Later that night I decided I'd see what all the fuss was about. And that night, I made a new friend, a new hobby.

And I loved it.

~~~~~

I already like this story better than my last one, so far :D

I might continue with Long Sleeves but I don't think its worth it, I'll probably delete it soon.

If this gets 5 reads, 2 votes or a comment then I'll add the next part.

(P.S. If you copy this book I will hunt you down and bitch slap you to the moon.)

(But really don't copy it.)

(It's not gonna get you any more attention cause this is a terrible story.)

K thanks for your time, see ya!

~R