starrburst
July 8th, 2010, 03:47 PM
So, I dug this up...I wrote it a few months ago..obviously just the start...not very good...lol
I fell to the floor, my body hurting all over. I passed out. It was un-real. I could not cope; I dare not even come back into consciousness now. So, there I lay...God knows how long, on my cold bedroom floor. It was their entire fault to; I’d rather die than have to put up with them again, especially him. I love him, and I thought he loved me. I guess I thought wrong, this was really bad. I hoped my parents would just come find me, comfort me and tell me everything is alright but If that happened, I would have to tell them everything and that would be worse, oh the embarrassment. How will I survive past this? Where do I go next, a psychiatrist? No, that would cause more trouble than my life is worth. I hate my life; did I tell you how much I hate myself? Well I do, and everyone else seems to. My life is just another of wasted things in this cold-hearted world.
I suddenly woke, blurry eyed. I thought I must of being dead, I thought It would be okay. But, as my vision and senses kicked in, I realized I was no other than the exact place I had passed out. Blood was everywhere around me, It had stained my clothes; It had stained my memory. This vision would haunt me forever, I knew. It is one of them things that you hear about, that never seem to occur to you. Never seem to matter until it happens, all of a sudden, to you. I could have died, I still could. But I have to clean up this mess, If my life dependent on it. Because if not, my parents will come here sooner or later, and find me...half naked on the floor, and blood...lots of blood.
I slowly put the palm of my hand to the ground; it felt so cold compared to me. I was scared; I pushed down on the floor and, very slowly, sat up. I wriggled back a little, got myself near a wall, and attempted to stand. I was shaking with fear; I grabbed my dressing gown from behind me. It was one of the few things with (As far as I could see...) no blood on. I quickly slipped it on, and glanced down at my cuts. I looked away again quickly, it was too much. It felt unreal and I suddenly got the urge to cut again. I always had these urges; they usually got the better of me. Convincing myself that I have to cut, and that If I cut everything will be okay again, but the lies, oh the many lies in that. If only I hadn’t cut in the first place, If only I had thought of the future. If only...
But I had, and nothing could stop that. So I need to move on, I looked at my newly engraved lines lurking on the fresh, soft skin of a 14 year old girl, myself, a secret-keeper that has gone too far. Way too far, in fact. I ran my finger across the lines; they were badly swollen and still open. Seeing my trusty water bottle, I grabbed it and poured the clear liquid over the self-inflicted wounds. The dried blood around the area disappeared and fresher blood came out, I assured myself it would be okay; that the towels on the floor would not be found by anyone, but I cannot promise myself that. I gathered them up my wrists aching from the cutting spree. My worst cuts where on my stomach though, I’m glad because I can hide them easily. I walked through to the bathroom, hoping no one would see me. I managed to get there, I locked the old, creaky door and disposed of the, once white, towels. I threw away some of my troubles, I felt as if It would be easy to get away with this now.
I fell to the floor, my body hurting all over. I passed out. It was un-real. I could not cope; I dare not even come back into consciousness now. So, there I lay...God knows how long, on my cold bedroom floor. It was their entire fault to; I’d rather die than have to put up with them again, especially him. I love him, and I thought he loved me. I guess I thought wrong, this was really bad. I hoped my parents would just come find me, comfort me and tell me everything is alright but If that happened, I would have to tell them everything and that would be worse, oh the embarrassment. How will I survive past this? Where do I go next, a psychiatrist? No, that would cause more trouble than my life is worth. I hate my life; did I tell you how much I hate myself? Well I do, and everyone else seems to. My life is just another of wasted things in this cold-hearted world.
I suddenly woke, blurry eyed. I thought I must of being dead, I thought It would be okay. But, as my vision and senses kicked in, I realized I was no other than the exact place I had passed out. Blood was everywhere around me, It had stained my clothes; It had stained my memory. This vision would haunt me forever, I knew. It is one of them things that you hear about, that never seem to occur to you. Never seem to matter until it happens, all of a sudden, to you. I could have died, I still could. But I have to clean up this mess, If my life dependent on it. Because if not, my parents will come here sooner or later, and find me...half naked on the floor, and blood...lots of blood.
I slowly put the palm of my hand to the ground; it felt so cold compared to me. I was scared; I pushed down on the floor and, very slowly, sat up. I wriggled back a little, got myself near a wall, and attempted to stand. I was shaking with fear; I grabbed my dressing gown from behind me. It was one of the few things with (As far as I could see...) no blood on. I quickly slipped it on, and glanced down at my cuts. I looked away again quickly, it was too much. It felt unreal and I suddenly got the urge to cut again. I always had these urges; they usually got the better of me. Convincing myself that I have to cut, and that If I cut everything will be okay again, but the lies, oh the many lies in that. If only I hadn’t cut in the first place, If only I had thought of the future. If only...
But I had, and nothing could stop that. So I need to move on, I looked at my newly engraved lines lurking on the fresh, soft skin of a 14 year old girl, myself, a secret-keeper that has gone too far. Way too far, in fact. I ran my finger across the lines; they were badly swollen and still open. Seeing my trusty water bottle, I grabbed it and poured the clear liquid over the self-inflicted wounds. The dried blood around the area disappeared and fresher blood came out, I assured myself it would be okay; that the towels on the floor would not be found by anyone, but I cannot promise myself that. I gathered them up my wrists aching from the cutting spree. My worst cuts where on my stomach though, I’m glad because I can hide them easily. I walked through to the bathroom, hoping no one would see me. I managed to get there, I locked the old, creaky door and disposed of the, once white, towels. I threw away some of my troubles, I felt as if It would be easy to get away with this now.