It's just my journal.

Screams for help

~Okay, so, the other night, after three months, I relapsed...I'm weak and sorry please don't hurt me. And, I woke up the next morning and wrote this, which is actually what happened. I did not write how I really felt at the time and refer to myself as "she" because I like to pretend that it never happened and that person is not me. Here you go.~

She sat quietly on the floor, head in her hands. Her mother had yelled at her again(A/N for no reason, may I add.), she knew it it was nothing. It was something that happened quite often, something she'd most likely forget about. It didn't stop her from breaking down. It was always the same, she'd do something completely innocent, but it'd upset her mother and it would always end with her feeling absolutely worthless. It had been happening for so long.

Slowly, she got up and started walking to the bathroom, when her knees gave out, causing her to let out a yelp in the sudden pain that shot up her right leg. The pain was horrid, and would make anyone cry. Instead, she started laughing, tears still slowly making their way down her face just to reach the floor and disappear. She laughed like she always did, she laughed until she had to gasp for breath. Then, she stopped.

After laying there for another minute, she quietly let out a sob, muttering sentences that would horrify most. She looked over at the bathroom door, which was only a few steps away. She was so close, so close to relieving her pain, so close to forgetting about that night's breakdown.

She went to get up, only to have that searing pain shoot up her right leg, causing her to fall back down. She sat up and screamed out the same words she always did, hoping to be heard by someone, anyone, out there. It had been the same routine almost every night since she started relieving her pain when she turned nine. It was so messed up, and she knew it.

Still, she slowly started hobbling toward the bathroom, finally reaching the door. Her tears were still falling, she was still screaming out to no one. She used the counter to help her stand, desperately looking for her blades. She tenderly took the bag and hobbled back to her bed, taking one out. She could finally relieve her pain.

Where would she cut today? The wrist? The thigh? Both, and possibly the stomach. Slowly, she took the blade and pressed it against her wrist, sliding it smoothly across. She watched the small droplets of blood form, despite the "pain", it calmed her. She did it over and over again, in various places. Slowly, the tears stopped, her breathing became less rapid and she felt the emptiness flood her body. The scars were sure to be there for a while, so she wore a jacket and jeans.

Slowly as she began to calm herself, she fell asleep, but as she put her head on the pillow, she whispered to no one but herself,

"It's okay, no wants me around." Closing her eyes, she waited for the next day.

He screams for help will never be heard.

~Okay, Okay, the whole collapsing thing is due to something happening when I was little, don't question it. And uh, yeah.~