The first time I cut myself was just over two weeks after my mom died. I had just turned eleven the previous night. Of course my dad was drunk, and my brother wasn't here, so I the night went by without a single word from my dad. It's been that way for 5 years and counting. That night I had dreams about my mom. She was the most beautiful woman I've ever met. She was so kind and loving. Her perfume smelled like vanilla. I loved her so much, I had a dream that she was here. At my house again. She was there like nothing has changed in the past two weeks when she passed. She went strait for my room to tell me dinner was ready, I thought it was real and that I had her back. But I woke up that morning. I felt that I couldn't live without her so I got out of bed. Grabbed my dads long forgotten hair razor and detached the blade. I stood at my kitchen sink. Looking at my fearsome reflection in the mirror. At first I dragged the blade slowly along my arm. Then I couldn't take it and I applied pressure and broke the skin. It hurt so good and it made me forget about all my pain (mental at least) for at least an hour and it was worth it to have a short period of relief from all the questions that flow into my brain like the wind. But it's not a light breeze, it's a hail storm in my head. I needed to escape and the blade helped me do that. So now whenever I feel I'm about to fall away and lose it, I go to my kitchen sink and know where it goes from there. That sink is where I go to escape and it's also where I sometimes can hardly look at it because I feel so much shame at what I've done to myself. But every time I say it'll never happen again, I find myself in less than a month, at that sink, staring down my reflection that refuses to meet my eyes. It's such a relief sometimes that I feel I could take a handful my dads blood pressure pills and end it. But I never have the courage to do so. I am not happy in this lifetime. I don't think I'll ever be. Now, every time I walk up to my kitchen sink with my head bowed, my brain knows what it means and silently accepts my failure in this life. In that dream, I remembered how my mom was always so concerned for me making friends. Well, I'm sorry I let her down because I have never had a single friend. Not ever. I know why, it's because I'm gay, and in my part of town, no one wants to be friends with a gay person. My "house" (more like shoebox) is right smack-dab in the middle of where people would call "the hood" in my neck of the woods. Yeah, it doesn't take much to be hated when your me (not tough, gay, thin, dumb, and did I mention so unpopular the principle doesn't even know my name-and I'm forced to meet with her twice a week for "tutoring" but its really just her yelling at me for getting an answer wrong. Yeah, no one ever wants to my friend, and I have to say I'm not too fond of other people. That's probably because they beat me up. On my way home from school almost every day I get cornered and beat the crap out of. I tried to ask them why, they said because we don't trust faggots. Yup, I can feel the self confidence boost already *sarcasm*. There is one person who hasn't been awful to me. Josh.
A/N Ok this one is like three times as long. Still short, but I'm working on it. Idk why I'm doing this. I have basically no reader but what the hell, right?
Stay alive|-/
