*Just get it over with, and you won't have to worry about any of this
sh!t again. everything will be finished* She sat on her bed, almost
giving in to the voice in her head, but instead picked up a bottle and
smashed it at the wall.
"F!uck off!! Leave me alone!" she screamed at the voice in her head.
Slamming the lid on the case that held the gun, she left it on her
dads nightstand hoping he would lock it back in teh safe where she
couldnt get to it again. Slumping back on her bed, the tears began
streaming down her face. It seemed that everything was going wrong.
Ever since she got off the pills she had been taking for the past five
years, these thoughts would not dissapeare. Being homeschooled hadn't
helped much either. Not that she would ever admit it to anyone, but
the thought of having a real 'friend' had come to her mind more than
once. Her room was her solace, and her computer her only friend. She
rolled up her sleeve, and pressed the razor blade to her arm, ready to
add to the abundant scars threading their way in different directions.
She had read about people cutting themselves because of being
depressed, but the real reason she did it, and she was scared to think
of it, is because she [i]enjoyed[/i] it. She liked watching the blood
ooze from the deep cut and slowly make its way down her arm. The more
the better. It was a sick fascination of blood and pain. More than
once she had wondered if she was psycho, and would end up as one of
those mass-murderers. SHe laughed to herself, but couldn't shake the
queesy feeling inside her stomach. Her dog came to her side, and she
began crying when she thought of how she had almost killed her best
friend. She had been petting the dog, and her hands had gone to the
dogs neck, and she was squeezing, choking the life out of her. But she
had caught herself, and let the dog go.
Her thoughts roamed to her school, she had flunked her class she had
been taking at the locale community college, and she could never seem
to pay attention long enough to learn anything. But her mom didn't
understand..Every afternoon, after school, she would spend time with
her horse, and then retreat back to her room. It had gotten to the
point where she was scared to come out. She would rather stay boarded
up in the room than go out and meet new people. On the radio, she had
heard of adds for modeling or movie extras, but never had the nerve to
actually go.
She pulled out her chapstick, and was suddenley reminded that she had
stolen it. It seemed that whenever she was in a store, she had the
urge to find out what she could pilfer without being caught. *I am
seriously f!ucked up* was her most reacurring thought.
sh!t again. everything will be finished* She sat on her bed, almost
giving in to the voice in her head, but instead picked up a bottle and
smashed it at the wall.
"F!uck off!! Leave me alone!" she screamed at the voice in her head.
Slamming the lid on the case that held the gun, she left it on her
dads nightstand hoping he would lock it back in teh safe where she
couldnt get to it again. Slumping back on her bed, the tears began
streaming down her face. It seemed that everything was going wrong.
Ever since she got off the pills she had been taking for the past five
years, these thoughts would not dissapeare. Being homeschooled hadn't
helped much either. Not that she would ever admit it to anyone, but
the thought of having a real 'friend' had come to her mind more than
once. Her room was her solace, and her computer her only friend. She
rolled up her sleeve, and pressed the razor blade to her arm, ready to
add to the abundant scars threading their way in different directions.
She had read about people cutting themselves because of being
depressed, but the real reason she did it, and she was scared to think
of it, is because she [i]enjoyed[/i] it. She liked watching the blood
ooze from the deep cut and slowly make its way down her arm. The more
the better. It was a sick fascination of blood and pain. More than
once she had wondered if she was psycho, and would end up as one of
those mass-murderers. SHe laughed to herself, but couldn't shake the
queesy feeling inside her stomach. Her dog came to her side, and she
began crying when she thought of how she had almost killed her best
friend. She had been petting the dog, and her hands had gone to the
dogs neck, and she was squeezing, choking the life out of her. But she
had caught herself, and let the dog go.
Her thoughts roamed to her school, she had flunked her class she had
been taking at the locale community college, and she could never seem
to pay attention long enough to learn anything. But her mom didn't
understand..Every afternoon, after school, she would spend time with
her horse, and then retreat back to her room. It had gotten to the
point where she was scared to come out. She would rather stay boarded
up in the room than go out and meet new people. On the radio, she had
heard of adds for modeling or movie extras, but never had the nerve to
actually go.
She pulled out her chapstick, and was suddenley reminded that she had
stolen it. It seemed that whenever she was in a store, she had the
urge to find out what she could pilfer without being caught. *I am
seriously f!ucked up* was her most reacurring thought.