She was scared.
Scared not only of her shattered past, but of her future as well. Of those times when the hurt was too much. Of those times when it felt the world was against her. Of those tragic times when it seems like she's on her verge of trying.
But most importantly, she was scared of herself.
She never thought, she would be able to have so much power, just by holding a simple blade. A blade as sharp as ice, but as light as a feather. It seems like it's her only friend.
Because it has seen her darkest times. Because it has helped. But. . . has it really helped her? Or is she just trying to convince herself that it is?
A bitter laugh escapes her mouth, and she opens a tiny, black box. Her fingers glazed the metal that was so smooth and comforting. To her, it was the only thing worth living for. And that sickened her. To think that her life depends on a simple blade. And when she had first thought that, she knew that she was truly broken.
If you were to take a quick look at her, you wouldn't knew she had a dirty little secret. The only give away was the silence that came from her- but that's if you really notice such small things.
Well, the silence and the scars.
Oh, the scars.
The lines reminded her that she's not a fighter. They remind her that life, itself, can do terrible things. But it isn't her fault. She had always, desperately wanted to stop. But it seemed, once she gave herself to the blade, she was no longer in control. But did she mind it?
Of course not.
Because anything that relieved her of the pain was welcome to take over her. Even if it is indeed more pain. She found it funny how you can cope pain, with pain.
Nonetheless, she still placed the box aside after retrieving the blade. And she rolled up her sleeve that covered her left arm. Deep lines covered her whole forearm. They haven't healed, and strangley, she doesn't want them too. That's another thing that sickened her.
Trust me when I say she's hasn't always been this way. No, when the pain first started, she ignored it, and put on a pretty little smile. But it wouldn't go away. And when the pain is that bad, you'll do anything to numb it. So that's what she did. In hopes of it going away, but it never did.
Because you can't escape things inside your head.
You can try, but you can't.
As the blade scrolled across her skin, she didn't flinch or wince or even notice it. Blood slowly ran down her arm.
Is this it, she wondered. Has it really come to this? All the pain and distress could really be over just like that?
The idea excited her. Which scared her even more.
Her intention was never to kill herself. But there was always something in the back of her mind that told her is she ever were to, she wouldn't care. She was a bird sitting in a tree during a storm. If the storm were to pass her, then lucky for her. If it had swallowed her, then it had swallowed her. But really she didn't care how much pain was pushed onto her. Because over the years, it seems that she was the burden, and she can't carry the weight any longer.
So she pressed deeper. And deeper. And soon, her arm was covered in blood. Blood dripped onto the floor, and she began to feel dizzy. But she didn't bother crying. She stopped crying a long time ago. It seemed she wasting her tears over something that wasn't worth it.
It was a shame she thought she wasn't important.
And as the life of her started to slowly slip away, she thought, I've done it. I've met my limit.
I'm sorry, was her last thought.
But she wasn't apologizing to her parents, or her brother, or her friends, or anyone else. She was apologizing to herself. Because deep down, she knows if she would've fought back, she could've made it. Because she knows, if she would've told someone, she would still be here. Because she knows, that it was a tiny problem. And she gave up.
Because she thought no one cared.
She thought, the world would be better off without her.
She thought, she was a mistake.
She thought, she wasn't worth it.
She thought, it was her only choice.
But it wasn't.
Because someone did care.
Someone knew the world would suffer without her.
Someone knew she wasn't a mistake.
Someone knew she was worth it.
Someone knew, it wasn't her only choice.
And someone blamed a small thought, for the death of a beautiful, broken girl, who was worth everything.
Because just a small thought, could cause so much damage.
(A/N) I am so, so sorry I haven't updated.
And I wrote this because I have known so many people who use(d) self harm as a way to relieve pain.
But I want everyone to know, that you are beautiful. Your not imperfect, because everyone's perfect in their own way. And I know it's hard. I understand it would be easier to give up. But just know, someone does care. I care. You don't need to hurt yourself, just because you think you're not worth it.
You are.
Don't let a small thought tell you you're not; because I believe in you.
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