I asked myself yet again what was wrong with me, while sitting in geometry class… I’m not quite sure why, but I always got my most profound thoughts in geometry…
But I already knew.
It was the blood
The blade.
The pain.

But Ultimately…

My addiction to it. I looked at Brad next to me as he flipped his black hair out of his face before scrawling down some equations.

We were quite different you know. He was rigid and wild. He even had a lip piercing. Myself though, I wasn’t like that. I would faint at the thought of a piercing other than my ears and I also didn’t look like I just stepped out of the emo store, he DID.

So what about me? I was the pretty cheerleader. Blonde hair that was perfect, perfect grades, flyer, skinny, tan, beautiful, rich… So you might ask, why does she hate herself so much? I just do, ok? I know that I’m perfect, all the teachers love me, my parents think I’m an angel, I’m popular. So what?

I should be happy right?

I shouldn’t hurt myself right?


Wrong.
I despise myself, and if it wasn’t for Brad, I probably would’ve killed myself.


Brad?
Shouldn’t I have popular friends?
The perfect boyfriend?
No, because there will always be one thing me and Brad can do together that I can’t do with anyone else. Cut. He does it too.

Later at my house we ran up to my room, my parents wouldn’t be home for another 2 hours. He grabbed the blood stains towels out from under my bed as I grabbed out two new razors. I dimmed the lights as we sat in my room on the floor and sliced our skin open with the hard metal. I cringed as the blade cut and blood seeped out of the wound.

So some people may ask me, Why Brad?
But I think it might be because after all those nights in my room, on the floor with the razors, we built a connection like no other.

Love.