A Broken Love

Chapter One

Depression. It consumes me. Almost completely. I've spent years wishing to get better, but things only got worse. I hate myself, my thoughts, and feelings. I want to be better but simultaneously, I wish for death. I wish to disappear. Maybe then I'll be good enough. It's quite doubtful, though. I know deep down, I'll never be good enough. I'll never meet the expectations people set on me. They wish for the best, but that's not me. Never will be, really.

I have siblings, you know. Although, they're not like me. Which is actually quite the blessing, to be honest. They think differently. Process things differently. React to things differently. But one thing they all have in common is pretending to know my pain. We've all experienced losses but I'm the one who went down that deep, dark rabbit hole into a spiralling depression. I'm the one who bleeds just to know that I'm still alive even though I'm already dead inside.

As I start to prepare myself for school, I feel the blood rush down my arms and legs from the fresh slits in my flesh. It hurts. But physical pain takes away from the emotional pain. I'd rather be stabbed a thousand times than to have my emotions fucked with. 

Once I clean the blood off of myself, I glance into the mirror in my bathroom. Dark. Empty. Lifeless. Words that could easily describe my eyes. They're filled with nothing but dread and sorrow. I've heard people say that eyes are the windows to the soul, but mine are just vacant pits of despair engraved into my skull.

At school, people stare at me like I'm some kind of psycho who's just escaped a mental asylum. Though, I never retort or stare back. I'm always too deep into my thoughts to say or do anything in return. My words don't mean anything to anyone anyway, so why waste my breath?

I end up sitting alone at lunch, which isn't unusual whatsoever. I have no friends. Well, actually, I have one friend. My little sister, Magnoliya. She's the complete opposite of me. Happy, full of life, positive. Not me at all. However, I feel as though it is a good thing to have happy people in your life even if yours isn't so amazing. Maybe Magnoliya's happy-go-lucky attitude will rub off on me and maybe then I'll be happy for the first time in a while. It's been so long since I was happy last, I don't even remember what it feels like. Terrifying in a way. I'm almost scared to feel an emotion that once came so easily to me. But now, you can't even get a smile out of me. 

Once I reach my house after walking from my bus stop, I open the door and immediately shut it behind me. My father storms into the room, obviously pissed off about something.

"You don't have to slam the door so damn hard. I don't need more problems to fix in this fucking household!" He yells.

I can smell the alcohol on his breath. I push past him and head straight for my room. I lock the door behind me and throw my bookbag onto the floor by my bed. Still leaning on the door, I sink down until I can feel the floor beneath me. As I was about to pull out my phone, I heard a knock on my door.

"Paislee, it's Rachel, open the door."

I oblige hesitantly. Once she came into the room, she closed the door behind us quietly.

"What do you want, Rachel?" I ask. My tone is low, almost a whisper.

"I only came in here because I wanted to make sure that you're alright, I heard dad scream at you. I know how sensitive you can be." She said. Her tone sounded almost hurtful.

"I'm fine." I lied.

Rachel likes to fuck with me and say things that only piss me off. I'm not sensitive. Not at all. She's quite the little bitch about some things, though. She has always liked being the big bad bitch. Always fuckin' with me, it's so irritating. Ever since we were little she has resented me and has treated me like I'm worthless. But it's whatever. I don't need her, I don't need anyone. Just me, myself, and I and oh yeah my thoughts.

"Rachel, can you please get the fuck out of my room? I need some time to myself." I asked, raising my voice a little bit.

"A bit snipping are we?" Rachel asked with a smirk. "You don't have to be such a bitch."

"Just get out please." I said lowering my tone into a cowering whisper.

"Fine." She said with an attitude. And with that she turned and walked out of the room.

As soon as she slammed the door, I flopped onto my bed and just stared at the ceiling, letting my thoughts consume me completely.

Drowning. Drowning in a pool of misery and despair just waiting for someone to save me from myself. But no one will save me. Nobody cares enough about me to help. I'm all alone in this shitty world. Constantly fighting a losing battle against myself. Losing a fight makes you stronger so you can go back and win. But this one only makes me weaker. Weaker than before. So weak that my body and mind is just telling me to drop dead. Telling me that no one will care if I'm gone. Telling me that I'm better off dead. Telling me that I'll never be strong enough to overcome my sadness. Telling me that I don't matter. Nothing matters. 

I press the razor blade to my cold skin. I wince in pain as I drag the blade deep into my flesh. Droplets of blood start to form on my wrists and thighs. The pain feels good. The pain lets me know that I'm still here. Still here in this hell that I live in. I wish I could escape this place. Find somewhere happy. Somewhere I could be happy.