"It's not a phase, mom" The young teen said, as she drew the the blade across the soft tissue of her arm. 

The pain was gone and only the adrenalin and surrealness of what she had been doing for months settled in the air, making it thick and heavy with stress.

 "Your fat!" One cut, 

"Your emo!" Two cuts, 

"Go kill yourself!" 

The blade goes to deep as the dark red rubies from earlier melt into a stream of regret poring out of the girl that thought she was fat, that she was ugly, that she was worth nothing. 

"It's not a phase, Mom...."

She looks up at the texts on her phone telling her how she was this monster, a plague, a parasite. That she had no reason to be in this world.


A small clink is the last sound she hears in her ears as her eyes close, and her breath escapes her as she believes she has rid the world of her, fatness, emoness, her depression.


"It's not a phase, Mom, it's my life being taken away from me." 


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We are all damaged in our own way, nobody is perfect.  -Johnny Depp