Oh, Death. It was all I could think about. But death didn't want me, just like everybody else, death rejected me. Rejected me three times. Not one, or two, but three. Even death didn't want to be in my company, that is why I still were alive. I should have been dead. Why? Why wasn't I?
I put down the blade, just to pick up another. I pushed it into my skin, ready to make a deep cut. I don't know exactly when, but somewhere between the thoughts of jumping off bridges and the switching of blades, I realized something. I HAD TO STOP.
I was destroying my life. I had become an expert on my body, as I was destroying it piece by piece. I was the victim and the abuser. I had lost so many battles with myself and my scars were proof of that.
Trying to think back, I couldn't remember a time before cutting. Before I started cutting the pain away. Cutting just to feel something other than the nagging pain inside. I couldn't remember a time where I didn't cut the voices away. I could bearly remember a time when I was crying my heart out every night, instead of cutting anytime I felt bad, which was always.
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Another short chapter, sorry about that..
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VeryMuchALIVE! (sing it for the hurt)
Teen FictionArwen gets bullied in school. Her thoughts of suicide grows stronger and stronger as the bullying increases. Sinking deeper and deeper into depression, nothing seems to help Arwen get out of it. Her only way out seems to be death. Music doesn't even...
