Box Full Of Sharp Objects

May 2, 2010
Just run, just run, just run…
I feel as though I’ve never ran faster, never breathed harder.
Just run. Forget the pain. Forget it…
I don’t understand. I mean, I’ve never understood. I don’t understand math, I don’t understand boys, and I don’t understand girls… I think I basically just don’t understand the human race. Why do people act the way they do? Why do they kill, love, breathe? Why do we bother? Nothing matters… It’s like that dumb old quote “life sucks and then you die.” That’s basically it, though. My life sucks, and- hopefully sooner rather than later- I’ll die. It’s just the way it works- I’m almost thankful for that. Almost.
So, I burst through the front door, thankful no one is home. They can’t be around me now, I’m like a bottle of Diet Coke with ten Mentos inside- but the top is blocked off and I’m gonna burst any second.
Anything to stop the pain, ANYTHING to stop the pain…
I run down the hall, up the stairs, down the second hall, stop in the bathroom, grab the first thing my hand brushes from behind the medicine cabinet, and head to my room.
I sit down on my bed, look out the window, and think. Why do I do this? And, as usual, I don’t know the answer, so I sit back, relax, and forget.
I don’t even notice that I do it, but barely a second later I can feel the razor-sharp blade cutting through my flesh, the blood beginning to drip onto my cleverly-chosen red bedspread…
And for the time being, nothing matters, and everything is okay.

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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

sparkofheart said...
May 17, 2010 at 9:12 pm
wow. freakin' amazing. like not even kidding you hit the nail right on the head with the emotions and everything. great job!
JasminePinto said...
May 16, 2010 at 12:28 am
well written, no amazing. i can relate to this 
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