The Broken Girl

The Broken Girl

She snaps an elastic band against her wrist whenever she’s anxious or upset. She snaps it again and again and again until it begins to crack her skin. She doesn’t feel the pain; the ache. She feels nothing. That’s why she does it, to feel something. But she doesn’t. No matter how many times she snaps that band against her wrist. No matter how red raw her skin goes. No matter the bruise that forms. No matter the small amounts of blood that starts seeping from pin pricked sized cuts. She feels nothing.

It’s her fault she’s completely numb, she can admit that. She knows that she’ll have to live with that for the rest of her life. Or however long it takes for her to start feeling again. Right now of course, that seems like it could last the rest of her life.

So she’ll keep snapping that band. Until she really starts to bleed. Until the pain outweighs the pain of the broken pieces in her chest.

They say you can wake up one day and feel better, feel okay about it all. But as of right now, she doesn’t think that is possible. How do you move on from something she thought was her future?

She has this dream. And she’s with him, she’s wrapped in her arms feeling the safest she’s ever felt in her life and they’re happy. It’s just a dream. She knows that.

But it’s her dream.

Just thinking of the thoughts make her want to snap that band against her skin as hard as she can. She wants the material the cut her deep. Perhaps she’d feel it then.

One day perhaps she will wake up and feel better; feel something. But until that day (far into the future) she’ll keep snapping that band in the vain hope that she’ll feel it; that she’ll no longer feel numb.