Mitchie's POV
I had finally finished packing my stuff. I was going to Camp Rock in the morning; I wondered what everyone would think of me. I'd dyed my stringy brown hair raven black; my style was very hardcore, I now wore what "emos" wore. I hated it that people used the word "emo" so freely. It wasn't even a word. But I'd been called an emo freak before; I should be used to that word. I just didn't know if I would be accepted like I had been before. I ignored that nagging thought as I picked up my lyric book. It was black with a broken heart design on it. I never used my old yellow song book. It seemed way too girly and innocent, not to mention… it looked cheerful. I was not cheerful.
I opened it as if I could break it easily, so I was quite cautious. I loved rereading the lyrics I had written, no matter now long ago the lyrics were penned:
I've been crashing to the ground
Everything is wrong
A moment of peace is all that I want
But these memories are a current
They pull me under
Everything is wrong
A moment of peace is all that I want
It's not as simple as I wish it could be
It's not the same as yesterday
If you knew what I was feeling now
Maybe you'd care
I remembered writing that. It was the saddest moment of my life. No one cared. It didn't matter if they even knew what was going on. No one even knew what had been going on with me. Sorry, I really don't feel like talking about this. No one needs to know what happened that night. I slowly closed the book. I reopened it at the very front page. A razor blade fell onto my bed; I didn't want anyone to find it, but I had to bring it to camp. So I had hidden it carefully. I wasn't waiting until tomorrow to feel alive though; I picked up the shining silver blade. I loved it like it was my best friend and I hated it like it was my worst enemy. I never thought I would have such feelings of hatred for an object. But I do. I love it though. I have a love/hate relationship with an object. I rolled my eyes at the realization of just how crazy my thoughts were.
I glided the silver blade along my wrist.
I watched as a little bit of blood creeped up out of the broken part of the skin. It came out slowly. It barely bled more than a drop.
The sting came. It wasn't the pain that I had hoped for. I cut it more violently, knowing that it would help me to feel something. After all, it's better to hurt than to feel nothing at all. Then that's the exact moment when the blood began to stain my pale wrist ruby.
My wrist began to sting again. The sting I had now was sufficient, I smirked, knowing that I was getting my way; I was in control for once in my life. I realized that I was bleeding out so quickly that blood was pouring out onto my hand. I quickly walked into my bathroom to sit on the floor and let the blood drip off my hand and onto the tile floor. Later I would erase all evidence that this ever happened. I needed to keep this a secret for as long as possible.
Tears pooled in my eyes as I felt overwhelmed with pain and relief. I was only relieved because I knew I was alive. Just knowing that I was breathing after going hours without even believing I was really here was overwhelming. The pain only existed now. I felt nothing when I was cutting. I was completely disassociated. I hated crying. It made me feel weak.
I reminded myself that I was weak every single day. I never believed it. The scars on my wrist showed the battles that I had been in. I won them all, there's a scar for each on of them. But as I cry, all I can think about is the one question I'd never thought about: How am I supposed to hide the scars?
It may seem like an obvious thing. But this was summer camp. And on top of that, I would be sharing a cabin with other girls. I let the thought leave my mind. I didn't want it there. Besides, I've gotten into some crazy situations. Everything's turned out right, so I switched my focus to the slowing blood flow. I sighed as I noticed that this looked a lot like the girl that I promised I would never become. I lied.
A/N: Please let me know if you like it or not. It would mean a lot to me.
