good night dear friends.

SiNgItFoRtHeWoRld123's picture

good night dear friends.

upset, tired,and upset.

love ya'lls.

“FUCK!” She slammed the door shut, and threw her backpack against it. The pictures hanging on the wall shook as she repeatedly began to bang her head against her wooden desk. She pinched her red cheeks, and dug her nails into them. “FAT. FAT. FAT.” She yelled at herself. She yanked her shirt up, and clawed at the rolls of fat hanging from her stomach. “Why can't you fucking be pretty?” She growled at herself as she dug in her bag for her razor. She felt a shiver down her spine as soon as her fingertips felt the cool surface of the razor. She inserted a small cut into her right thigh. Blood slowly began to trickle down her leg. She let out a quiet gasp when she made a slightly larger cut right above her knee. The blood poured out willingly. She felt as though she was floating. She was repaying her debts. Receiving her punishments. Getting what she truly deserved. After feeling nothing for weeks, it was nice to know that her senses still existed. She never welcomed pain as much as she did in that moment. After letting the pain soak in, she performed another act of desperation. She had stolen cigarettes for the first time, and decided this was the appropriate time to smoke them. She lit the cigarette and inhaled the sweet nicotine. After a couple of coughs, and gasps for air, she was smoothly smoking her first cigarette. And it felt good. She cracked the windows open, airing out the room. After every smoke, she would dig the cigarette into the inside of her arm, leaving little red circles. She would poke those little red circles, knowing that they were vulnerable baby wounds, and if anything touched them it would hurt. Every sting she felt, filled her up with glee inside. She knew that she was getting what she deserved. She knew that her friends, family, and that boy she met during the summer would all agree that she needed to harm herself. Because no one liked her. And she did not like herself. “That's right cunt. Take it in,” she whispered. Pleased with the burns, the cuts, the bruises on her forehead, and the scratches on her cheeks and stomach, she carefully cleaned up the blood and cigarettes. She crawled into bed without another word, and slept.