I felt the sharp blade pierce the thin layer of my bruised skin. The release it gave me was intense. The feeling makes me feel alive. My black and blue wrist coming alive to the colour of red. My tired veins taking longer to heal than in the past. The long jumpers hide the bruising. Suffering in silence while the bullys pain intenses everyday. My mind is battered at the end of each week day. Im different , im unique. Is that a bad thing.
The empty pill bottles fill my floor like rubbish sitting, waiting to be put in the bin. But it never made the bin because i was always out of it once id emptied a bottle into my mouth. Collapsed on the floor, sleeping and sleeping. Maybe i fit in in my dreams. But no, im an outsider their as well. The voices swim around in my head like its a huge fish tank for demoinc fish who reside in hell.
I have 5 pairs of scissors in my room. All hidden in different places so no one will ever come across them. Once i cut your name into my arm, but fuck you know. It lasted for a month then dissapeared. But still i cant get rid of you. You have scarred my heart for life. Used to beat loud and clear, now its just a deep dark void where it used to sit. I tattoo myself just to feel alive. Just to feel the pain surge throughout my body.
I wake up every morning wondering when it will end. The pain i feel inside boils over, burns my insides like hot lava caressing my body. I look in the mirror and i see nothing. An empty shell wrapped up in darkness. Getting smothered by fear. Another day of getting pulled apart. I feel like a rag doll. Getting pulled from pillar to post. Everyday.
'Its just a phase' they say. Because i wear black. Because i listen to different music. This is who i am. A nobody existing in a world where i am everyone elses punch bag. They get kicks out of teasing me, fucking with my head. Its like their highlight of the day. Maybe its what i deserve. Maybe thats the reason im here. So these people can practice their punches on someone, that if they accidently kill they will not miss. No one will.
But im good at putting a front up. Like these beatings dont hurt. That their not affecting me in the slightest. Ive always been a good liar. But my feelings for you, they wernt lies. I fell hard and fast. You let me. You watched me fall for you completely, then stabbed me one hundred fucking times in my heart. Crushing it, drowning it into an ocean of despair.
I'll slit my throat with the knife i pulled out of my heart, maybe when you find out that im dead, you'll realise what you did to me. Maybe ill put my guard down and expose the real, frightened, vulnerable me. The one i hide from you and all your friends.
These scars will never heal. These jumpers will be with me for life. And just so you know, its not for attention. Its to make me feel. These scars and wounds are all for you. You made me into this monster that i am today. You pulled me apart so badly that ill never be fully stitched together again. They'll always be parts of me, hanging their, limply for everyone to stare. The wounds never fully heal, i always end up re-opening them just to make me feel alive. Just to remind me of you. You fucking dick.
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