Author's Note: Please be aware that this story will contain depiction of self-harm, among other things. If this is triggering for you, proceed at your own discretion.

Save Yourself

by Apocalyticism

–

I know that you've been damaged,

your soul has suffered such abuse.

But I am not your saviour,

I am just as fucked as you.

I cannot save you.

I can't even save myself,

so just save yourself!

–

The razor sunk in neatly. With a sharp and biting pain, it split apart his skin, exposing a glimpse of the tender flesh underneath. Sid watched as beads of blood popped up, slowly blossoming into a thick red slash. The bubble of blood grew and grew, until it could no longer fight against gravity, leading it to slowly dribble down his arm and join the blood that was already flowing down his arm. Sid was shaking, he hated doing this, but it was necessary. Completely and utterly necessary. Not the least reprehensible. He closed his eyes for a second.

He didn't want to look at his arm, but he opened his eyes again because he had to. Cuts littered his forearm, they all but covered his skin, only ending where a bold Sharpie line encircled his arm. That was the "safe" line. He had tested it himself, seeing where all his long sleeved shirts came to doing all sorts of things, and drew the safe line two inches above that, so there would be less of a chance of exposure. He didn't want anyone to know about this yet. This was his secret, his way of coping, his. No one would take that away from him.

Sid turned on the tap and placed his forearm under the running water, wincing as the cuts stung. The water in the basin turned an ugly pink, nothing like the beautiful red he liked seeing. When the blood was gone, Sid took some toilet paper and pressed on the cuts, to help the bleeding staunch. Once the cuts were no longer bleeding heavily, he flushed the toilet paper and threw on a long sleeved shirt. It was time to face the day at school.

–

Hello, my name is Kirsten and I'd like to join people-who-start-things-they-will-never-finish anonymous.

I'd also like to apply for official buttmonkey status for Sid.

Thank you.

I'm feeling pretty shitty and had the genius idea that I'd write about doing bad things instead of actually doing them myself. Except for smoking. That's kind of non-negotiable.

This is all fancy formatted because I don't want people to suddenly get bam, razor to the skin as soon as they click on the link. The song is obviously, Save Yourself by Stabbing Westward. The instalments of this will be shorter than I usually do (even though they're usually pretty short...) and kind of disjointed, because that's how I felt when I was riding the Midnight Depressed, y'know, you focus so much on how wrong everything is when you try to remember it it seems all disjointed, like a dream. You can remember bits and pieces, and of course, the overall feeling, but not a lot of details like normal memory.

I guess that's the thing about my stories, I try to write about what I know and what do I know better than depression?

NOT A LOT n_n

God, I ramble so much when I'm putting off homework.

Hope you enjoyed my lief storie!1!