evie_rose
February 15th, 2013, 05:07 AM
Hey gang, so I'm new here and such but I just need to post this peace of writing. This is what happened to me today and I've been listening to sad music and everything and I came up with this. Please don't hate on my shitty writing skills..
I think I found some one else who cuts today.
'I already could tell that she was deeply sad. Only a depressed person can spot another. She looked alone in a room full of people, staring into the distance, hands wrapped around her stomach, hiding her hands. I notice that when one is incredibly depressed like I was, you tend to hide your hands constantly. I still do a little bit.
And she's beautiful. She's stunning. People would not expect a girl who is so pretty and bubbly to be the one that goes down the tubes. But I was that girl, not pretty, but constantly happy. Building up all this pent up self hatred and sadness and you can't contain it anymore. The only way is to bleed it out of you, droplets sliding warmly down your skin. And today, I noticed. Her once beautiful, pale, clean arms are covered in superficial yet multiple cuts. Her left arm is mainly the victim, like me, she must be right handed. Yet, sometimes I prefer to use my left because you have less control and you go deeper.
I want to talk to her. I want to sit down next to her and say 'you too, huh?' and show her my arms. I want her to know she is rare, but not alone. But maybe she'll take offence, I don't know. If some one did that to me I would burst into tears and embrace them, telling them, 'we'll get through this.''
I think I found some one else who cuts today.
'I already could tell that she was deeply sad. Only a depressed person can spot another. She looked alone in a room full of people, staring into the distance, hands wrapped around her stomach, hiding her hands. I notice that when one is incredibly depressed like I was, you tend to hide your hands constantly. I still do a little bit.
And she's beautiful. She's stunning. People would not expect a girl who is so pretty and bubbly to be the one that goes down the tubes. But I was that girl, not pretty, but constantly happy. Building up all this pent up self hatred and sadness and you can't contain it anymore. The only way is to bleed it out of you, droplets sliding warmly down your skin. And today, I noticed. Her once beautiful, pale, clean arms are covered in superficial yet multiple cuts. Her left arm is mainly the victim, like me, she must be right handed. Yet, sometimes I prefer to use my left because you have less control and you go deeper.
I want to talk to her. I want to sit down next to her and say 'you too, huh?' and show her my arms. I want her to know she is rare, but not alone. But maybe she'll take offence, I don't know. If some one did that to me I would burst into tears and embrace them, telling them, 'we'll get through this.''