Random Thoughts of a Teenage Girl

Hatred Fire

I sit perched in the middle of a bed inside a freezing room almost as cold as the blade in hand.

I enter my thoughts once again and realize that cuts will not hurt as much as the words that people have directed towards my weak body.

I place the blade's tip lightly on my pale wrist. . . Only to find that the knife in hand is too dull to leave any damage.

So I thoughts, anyway.

With each scratch I caused, I noticed that they became deeper and deeper as they drew down my pale arm.

He can't know

I murmured, as crimson blood seeped lightly through a new opening torn in my flesh.

He won't know

I murmured again. I closed my eyes and remembered his laughing face.

I'm not dragging him down with me

I thought back to a not-so distant memory.
A tear slips down my cheeks and on to the cut.

Not this time

I watched as the thick crimson liquid flew lightly from a cut, spilling on to my arm.

Not again