This is stupid but I'd rather write it than have it in my head
She lays in bed at night and thinks. Thinks about life, things that she's done, friends she lost, things she regrets.
They haunt her. They follow her everywhere. The scars are there, but no one ever sees them. Except for her. She sees them. She regrets them. But they're still there.
She's terrified to ask for help. To tell her friends in hope they'll support her. She knows what she's done won't sit well with the one she wants to keep around the most, and she's afraid of being labed by the others. She's scared they'll make it worse.
She wishes it would go away. The pain, the stress, the voices in her head. The voices that say "do it. Just one more time. They'll never know." The voices that say "you're so far behind. You've missed school. You're failing."
She hates it. She stares at her wrists, and at her body, and just wants to cry. She didn't want this, but its so hard to let go. So hard to not cave into the voices and draw her blood again.
She wants just one week. One week of a peace if mind. Of not wanting to die every time she got a new piece of work. One week of being okay.
But that doesn't happen. It never happens. And she's tired. So, so tired. She doesn't want to do this anymore. She's not sure she can do this anymore. Every side comment, every mocking question, or plain out insults directed at her hurt. They hurt so much. They destroy any and all self esteem or self worth she's built up for the past month. Week. Day, even. It makes it hard to get back up once you've fallen so far.
She wants to curl up and cry. She wants to be allowed to be sad. She wants people to recognise and applaud her for all the progress she's made that no one sees. Like the fact she still chooses to wear her pins even after all the comments saying they were stupid or weird.
She's tired and drained and struggling but no one sees because she's scared. So, so scared. Its drowning. Crushing her and suffocating her. And she's trying. But she's not wining. Not at all. Barely holding on. Just enough to seem ok on the outside.
She wants warm hugs and validation from people she loves and looks up to. She wants to feel ok. To not stare at her scared skin and wish it could be ripped off so she'd never have to look at it again. She wants to be respected for the sheer concept that she us still alive today.
But that'll never happen. And she's trying.
