She always liked the quiet. However, the quiet didn't always like her. When she had nothing to do and no things to say her mind would wander. It would bring up all those failures, all the things she's done wrong. Everything that's gone agents her morals and everything that goes agents her will to live.
She never liked when this happened. She would busy herself. Talking to friends, like you have any, she would say to herself. Draw, like you actually can, she would tell herself. Clean her room. It's just going to be dirty again tomorrow.
Everyone would ell at her for distancing herself. She didn't like that. They judged her, made her cry, hurt her... Yet they expect her to spend her time with them.
I wish they would stop questioning me... She thought. I know what is happening in my own life.
I wish they would stop judging me.
I wish they treated me like a person.
I wish I had a friend. I real friend.
I wish I had some one that didn't take half an hour to text back.
I wish they cared.
And that's when it snapped in her head as tears streamed down her face. No one cares... That's it. She smiled. She finally knew.
I'm sorry I'm loud.
I'm sorry I ramble.
I'm sorry I listen to music that you don't like.
I'm sorry I have a dark mind. Where do you think I got it?
I'm sorry I'm such a bad daughter.
I'm sorry I'm such a bad sister.
I'm sorry I'm such a fucking failure.
I'm sorry I forget everything you tell me.
I'm so funcking sorry I existed.
She leaned back on her bed. She grabbed a sharpie, and drew a line across her wrist. I'm not hurting myself so they won't care... They won't stop me...
She drew a line. It didn't hurt so she drew another. A thousand apologies came out with the ink on her skin.
I'm sorry I'm awkward.
I'm sorry I can't do landury right.
I'm sorry I have an anxiety issues.
I'm sorry I don't trust enough people to tell them how I'm feeling.
I'm sorry I'd rather express myself through pictures than words.
I'm sorry I'm so hard to read.
I'm sorry I have an online freind that makes my life worth while.
I'm sorry she's one of the main reasons I'm alive.
This wasn't too bad. There were no consequences to this. Just what dies on the inside while it happens.
I'm sorry I'm still not over his death.
She smiled again. It wasn't a happy smile. It was a broken one. She only knew what was wrong with her. People only give empty compliments. During class everyone was tasked with writing a heartfelt compliment on every page. Guess what she got? "Good at drawing" "Can sing really good" "Hair is like fire". Is that really she's labeled? How about the person who has dedicated 5 years of her life to her own characters. Dose anyone know that? No. Do they care enough to know? No.
Dose anyone care enough to go deeper than the surface? No. She curled back onto her pillow, pulling her sleeve over her arm.
These are times when the quiet kills.
A few minutes passed when her mom poped he head in.
"Ainsley? What are you doing in your room! You need to come out and spend time with us!!"
"....Sorry."
((I have way more to apologize to than that. I'm going to use this for vents as well. I'm going to ne posting more frequently with stuff like this. Um... Ignore updates with titles like that... Sorry.... I'm sorry...)
