I'm that kind of girl who looks in the mirror and hates watch she sees. The kind of the girl who wants to give up when she tries to tell herself to back get up. Who sees all the cracks in the reflection and ends up cutting herself for trying to put the pieces back together. Someone once said to me that you should be careful when trying to be put someone back together because you just might end up cutting yourself. But no one ever tells you about trying to put yourself back together. No one ever warns you. Because of that you end up bleeding and all you can do is watch the red blood pour. Waiting for it to be over, wishing your days away. And you have them for the remainder of your life. Battle scars from fighting myself. As if cutting yourself would make the pain go away. As if it would make the days seem shorter. As if it would make me forget. But the thing is… you can never forget what it has done to you. You put a bandage or a plaster over it. Even wear long clothing not to remind yourself of how much you hate yourself. You don't need people to remind you of how much you hate yourself because you're good enough at doing it yourself. You already tell yourself that every day. The thing is… You can cover up a scar on your arms and legs. But you can never bandage the ones inside your head. You bleed and eventually that scar will heal but that doesn't mean to say that you're fixed.
They say that the most messed people are the ones that hurt themselves over and over again. Until there is nothing left. Some call us attention seekers, others bored or indeed of a fix. They can label us all they want. But they will never know of the truth. The deep secret that we hide from ourselves.
No one will ever know of the pain of the aching feeling in your heart. Putting that fake smile on every day and lying that you can go another day. There's only so many times that you can tell yourself that you're ok. You lie to them because they never know of the pain that you carry. You keep it to yourself because they will never understand. Apart of you doesn't understand, not really. What it's like to close the door and let it hide the tears. As if nobody can your tears, it means there aren't any. The amount of times that you've wanted to scream out to the world. To someone. But knowing that deep down, no one can hear you.
But what hurts more than the lies and tears. It's the fact that they will never know what it's like to hate yourself so much that you hurt yourself. That you hate yourself that much, that you would kill yourself to make the pain go away.