Preface
I wasn't always mad at her. We used to be best friends. We were inseparable. Her name was Jessica Richards. I was different from the other kids; an outcast. No matter how different I was she accepted it. Too bad everything went downhill.
January 12, 2009
Dear Diary,
I already have a way of getting rid of the pain; temporarily. It's just something I do. It helps satisfy that empty feeling. I cut myself.
Don't get me wrong I don't think that's what I need to do. It's just what I do. Trust me I DO NOT think cutting me is what I need to do.
I have one blade that I think gets the job done best. I got it from school. I have gotten a few of my "weapons" from school. I had gotten most of them from the art room.
At first I used a pair of scissors I swiped from the art room. They worked but not well. It kind of hurt too much. The second thing I tried was carving tools we used for pottery. They were okay; a little better than the scissors.
I had noticed the sink in the art room had a ragged edge; it was dilapidated. I had walked over to the sink. I was so tempted to brush my wrist up against just to see how it would feel; so tempted. "No," I thought to myself. "Too many witnesses." I just lightly ran my finger across it. It tore through my skin quickly. It did the job perfectly. I tore it off the sink with little effort. No one noticed. I shoved it in my pocket and I was gone.
Well that's barely the half of it. Like I said before, I wasn't always mad at Jessica. It just happened that way. That's how it's supposed to be; well I guess.