Skin and Bones
Author's note: I wrote this mostly as a coping method, and to get it out of my soul. Most people don't know... Show full author's note »
PrologueI feel my fingers scratch at my skin, aching to inflict pain. My hands rise up to my head and tear at the stringy strands of hair hanging to my shoulders. My soul is desperate and searching...my heart beats wildly and inside I rage against life. "You are ugly, stupid, gross and fat". I mutter. "Worthless piece of crap!" My eyes scan the chest of drawers in front of me and land on a letter opener that is sharp and shaped like a miniature dagger. I pick it up and stab at my wrist "cut, CUT!" I demand out loud, but in a whisper. Why won't it pierce my skin? I am furious at myself, can't I do anything right?
I give up, stamping my foot in frustration. If I am honest with myself, I don't really want to hurt anymore, I don't want to bleed or scar. But I know I must. The hurt inside is too big, and is overflowing. Hurting myself is the only way to get the pain and rage out. I sob, tears and snot running haphazardly down my face. "Why me?" I think. I breathe deeply and run my left hand down my right arm. There aren't any cuts today, no abrasions to show the world how messed up I am. I wander slowly over to my bed and sink down onto the mattress, exhausted "Please, God...save me from myself" I plead. He is the only one who can save me now. I am far from the point of no return.