Notes: Eh, okay, I lied. I decided to continue it. :) It's really most likely just going to be just a serious of one-shots in one that just happen to go together. But either way, I really hope you enjoy. Please don't forget to review!

The pressure in my head is escalating. I can't think, much less speak. My head plunks to my desk with a bang, and I let out a small groan. I can't bring myself to even move. Everyone has gone home, and I think about today. No one confronted me; no one asked how I was doing. Elliot would shoot me peculiar looks now and again, but I reassured him -I hope- with a smile and always went back to my work. I sigh. I can't believe how well I must be hiding this, if even Elliot, my partner and best friend, has absolutely no idea what is happening.

I slowly roll up my sleeves and run my fingers gently along the angry red lines that cross each other and snake up my wrists and arms. Some of them are pink and raised, announcing new scars being imprinted in my skin, to remain there until the end of time. Others are bright red and scabbing over, voicing the newest and most recent marks I've made to fight for my sanity.

"Battle scars," I find myself murmuring, and smile. The name seems to fit.

I close my eyes and feel my brain pulse inside my head. There are no tears today, but I can feel them waiting. Waiting for me to crack. I sigh for what seems like the hundredth time, praying silently for the comforting but temporary release of sleep. If I'm lucky tonight, there will be no nightmares. Maybe, if I'm even luckier, there will be no dreams at all, and I will just be able to sleep deeply and peacefully. These chances are slim, however, and I push the thought away. No use in hanging onto a worthless hope.

My wallet seems to be burning a hole in my back pocket. But my mind is made up. I can't touch it, at least not today. I owe it to Elliot. No, I decide. I owe it to myself. I can't sleep, so I sit there for what seems like hours on end. I have finished all of my paperwork, so I don't know what to do with myself. Should I wait it out? I think. Should I go home? I certainly can't drive in this condition, but can I get a taxi and get ride home? Before I know it, I notice that the pain is gone. I am numb. I smirk to myself, and I almost chuckle. I am an idiot. I should have seen this coming.

As I feel the numbness take over me, I shiver as I feel the familiar dull aching it leaves in my body. Now, I feel… well, I don't feel. And it kills me. It's strange, not feeling anything, as though you are just simply empty. You can move, and you can speak, but it's not the same. Not the same as living. At least, with the pain, you feel something. When I'm numb, I function. But I don't feel.

I think back to something I'd heard a while before, though where I heard it escapes me. I think it is something George Huang had told me once, though I can't remember his exact words.

The cutter cuts, because it is the only thing they have control over. Once, there was a man who would bash his head into the wall over and over again to drive away the mental pain of what he was going through. By diverting the physical pain to the back or front of his head, he was not only distracting himself, but gaining control of how much pain he felt, and where.

Nicely put, George. At least you seem to know what I'm going through.

I sigh, once again, and feel the aching reach my limbs, and then go to my already pounding head. I wince, because it is a lot. But to anyone else who could be watching, all they see is the wince. They don't see what is happening inside me; the pain that washes over me each and every day. Even breathing seems to hurt, and I feel sleep is my only escape. Well, maybe not my only escape. But I've promised myself I wouldn't do that, and I refuse to go back on my word. At least I can keep myself to that.

I open my eyes, since I am now able to, and I sit up. But I don't push my luck by trying to stand and walk around. Baby steps. I just simply look around, trying to adjust my eyes to the dark room. I'm not tired anymore, not that I ever could have slept anyway. The aching is all over my body, and I can't do anything about it. No, that's a lie. I won't do anything about it.

And yet, I need it. I hate how much I depend on it, but I need it none the less. The chill of the cold silver, the trickle of the blood, the pulse of my veins as they pumps crimson down my olive tanned skin… it's all there is to distract me from my suffering, and though I despise it, I can't help but wonder what other alternatives I might have. My mind turns up blank. There are none.

I groan and let my head fall back down to the desk, only lighter this time. I don't want to have it hit the metal to hard, and have it send painful vibrations throughout my skeletal system. That would just make me hurt even worse. And I really don't want that. It might just be the thing that sends me over the edge.

I am on the brink. I can sense it. I have been suffering this so long, and I don't even know where it has originated from. It suddenly came out of nowhere, like a silent, black ghost, and has followed me ever since. I wish with all my might for it to go away, for it to cease. But, as I have witnessed before, my wishes don't seem to come true anytime soon. Maybe that's a reason for my pain; the fact that I am hoping too much. One would think that with my career, I would know about these things first hand. Ha! If only people knew what we suffered, day after day, week after week, listening to more and more people tell their stories of sorrow and loss of control.

It doesn't just break hearts, I would tell them. It breaks minds.

I sigh and pick up a pen, my only weapon for the time being. I pick up a piece of paper, and just begin to write my thoughts. It works. I can breathe.

Inquiry

They say that actions
Speak louder than words.
But then what, pray tell,
Can speak louder than actions?
And do tell me, for I know not,
Are there truly silver linings
Behind every storm cloud as they say?
Are the truly second chances
For us poor, unfortunate sinners?
Or do we just kid ourselves
With false hopes and
Useless dreams?
While dreams sing with the voices of many
Come together as one,
We must face the fact
That all dreams may not come true.
Yes, in fairytales, maybe,
But life is definitely no fairytale.
We certainly have no genie in a bottle,
No three wishes to be granted at our liking.
We make our own wishes come true,
As cliché as it sounds.
We work hard and we try hard
And sometimes we just can't win.
But that's just part of life,
And I have learned to accept that.
But does that mean we give up
If we have no other path to take
Than the path with obstacles
We know we cannot face?
Hm, perhaps.
If one was to believe it would help;
To give up,
I would have no objections.
I certainly have thought of it as well,
Though it seems silly to me.
Wasteful, almost.
It seems giving up would be
Unfulfilling and boring.
But I guess it just depends
On one's point of view.
And we the people of the United States
In order to form a more perfect union
Have strived to overcome
As many obstacles as we can.
We may not have done it
"Efficiently" or "in the best way possible",
But who are you to judge?
Had you been in their situation
In that time period,
You would have the same views as well.
We cannot change the past,
No matter how hard we try.
We can only move forward.
Again, as cliché as it sounds.
And also, there is the term:
Learn from your mistakes.
Well we make too many to begin with!
It's insulting to think that
People seem to want to believe that
We will simply make one mistake
And be perfect the next day
Because we remember all
Of the mistakes we made
the previous day.
No one does that,
Though it seems to be a common hope.
You are not that perfect;
Nor am I for that matter.
But that does not mean we
Should be expected to simply
Get up and fix ourselves?
It's insulting and rude,
And I despise the term.
But even as I drabble,
Just for the sake of speaking,
I feel justified and happy.
I feel I have made my point,
And so I rest.

So as I lay me down to sleep,
I ponder the secrets I have to keep.
And I wonder if they're worth the while,
But finally just let go, and smile.