Life Lift-er Upper

Self Harm

>This chapter is about self-harm, I'd you have ever done or thought about doing it, I don't recommend you read this, unless you think you can handle it. The end might make you rethink about ever self harming again, if you think you can read, if you can't please don't.<

You know exactly where it's at.

You look at the spot in the room, and you can picture it, right where it's hiding.

Your wrist, legs, belly, etc. Starts to itch.

You shake your head in annoyance and look away, scratching you wrist, not paying attention.

You leave the room and you forgot about it for a while.

You go back a few hours later, ready for bed, or it's 3 o'clock in the morning.

You grab it and you bring it your wrist.

Every memory, every thought that made you want to do this, is flashing past your eyes

You feel tears beginning to form, ready to spill.

You place the blade down, and you take a deep breath before slicing.

And if that wasn't enough, you slice some more.

Maybe you scream because your all alone.

Your sobbing now.

You feel lonely, like no one is there.

You feel like no one cares about you.

You feel like an ant under a big boot.

You begin to think, what if I take it further? What if I go all the way and kill myself?

Who will care?

Will anyone really miss me?

I know the jocks and cheerleaders in math class won't.

Or maybe you are a jock. Or a cheerleader. Yet you feel all alone.

You hate going to school everyday, you drag yourself out of bed, and get ready, not really caring what you look like.

You arrive at school, and you feel the stares, you imagine the whispering around you.

You finally get to first period, and your done, you hate it.

You doodle randomly on your papers, and you wait to get the assignment, just so you have something to do.

Your finally at lunch.

Maybe your alone, reading, or just staring at everybody.

Or maybe your surround my friends, laughing, talking yet you feel like an outsider.

You see the couples, kissing, hugging, laughing. They look happy.

Then you put yourself down

Why can't I have that?

Oh yeah...cause I'm ugly.

Or maybe you do have a girlfriend/boyfriend, but you know he/she is just in for the popularity, the kisses, maybe even the sex.

You still feel alone.

And you still know where that razor is.

Something caused you to start cutting.

Something made you hurt so bad, you had to pick up that razor, you had to bring it to your skin, you had to draw blood, because it felt good.

Then one day, it's to much.

You hate everything and everybody.

You lock yourself in your room, and refuse to come out for dinner.