I'm slowly shattering.

Nobody would ever know.

Until I'm gone.

gone.

It seems like I am all alone in this cruel world we call Earth. My religion is the only thing I have left. School has become a place for mental abuse from peers. It's basically hell on Earth. I get hurt and called names like most bullying situations you hear about on the news. Difference is, where is the person who is supposed to stop MY hand-made wounds? Who is supposed to be there from stopping me when there isn't anyone else left?

You would be curious if you ever asked yourself why I wear long sleeves every day

You would start thinking

Your thinking would be too late, much too late for it began long before you read this

I write my scars as the stories of my messed up life. Each one holds another painful memory to try and erase it from my mind. But they never fully work. Never enough to make a difference. Never enough to bleed like it should. Just like everything else I do. Never good enough. Never perfect, just as screwed up and tainted as me.

Do they even realize whats happening? Do they even care? A few seem to show a small concern, but only enough so they feel like they've done there part. Just so they feel it was as much as they could have done. Cowards, all of them. But then, who could blame them? Nobody wants to have a whiny perfectionist hanging around. Bet they'd be glad to see me go. I'd be glad to see me go if I was them. I'm still glad to see me go.

I love God. He is the most amazing thing in the World. I mean, he created me with his own bare hands. But, he also knew what I would become. He knew who my friends and relationships would be, and all my losses and fails. So since he knew I would do these things to my body, he knows what I should do, he created self-harm, didn't he? If he didn't want people to do this he wouldn't have created it. He wants me to be in heaven with him, to see the people he took away from me at such a young age. To see the people I care about.

It would be almost too easy to do it. In fact, some ways a delight. I could just grab that bottle and fall unconscious. Only a five minute pain traded for a life of hatred and loss. Once the short amount of pain subsides, I'd be soaring into the clouds, free as a bird. The first thing I would see would be the golden gates of heaven, touch the lords hand and know I have reached my home. I'll have a nice long chat as he leads me to my family. The only people who have ever really cared for me are there or will be there soon anyways. I could see both my grandfathers again, only men who ever knew how to wipe away my tears and tell me stories to make the sadness pass. The only ones.

If there is such a great future for me just sitting there waiting for me in heaven, why should I keep living in this miserable hell? Time to down that bottle and make peace with myself once and for all.