Inside my Deep Dark Twisted Mind

By , Powhatan, VA
Over the years it has been building up: the anger, the pain, the tears. I’m finally about to explode, and no one is here to hear my voice. I am all-alone in this world. Whenever I turn around a corner, I see no friends. I only see enemies. My family has alienated me and driven me to do this. This is their fault.
The first time I ever picked up that blade was Christmas day, the day I realized how messed up my family was. The day I decided to learn to control my pain. People tell you that cutting is a cry for help, for me it is a way to express my self. No, I never have cut before, neither did I know how. You catch on quickly though. The blade slices against your skin, it’s a retching pain, but it is pain I can control.
So many humans turn to cutting as a way for attention, maybe that’s why I do it. Maybe I do it because I don’t want attention. Messed up huh? Well, when you have no friends in life it is pretty hard to be normal.
As I pick up the blade my head is spinning, as I pull it across my skin my body is screaming, as I put on the bandage my body is healed. The sad thing is, my family doesn’t even know, or care. I’m sure they just think the razors are for my leg hair? Jokes on them, while they’re downstairs fighting, I’m upstairs controlling my life. Only one person has asked me about my nasty habit before, some random teacher, she sent me home with a letter and my sweet dad read it while being so drunk he couldn’t even open an eye. Mrs. Jane never asked me about it again, but I see the way she looks at me in the halls. I’m sure that’s not the last I’ll see of her. The way my mind works is twisted, almost disgusting, the way I think of everyone as my enemies. Its not like anyone has ever invited me for a sleepover, or asked me to help them study. Maybe I’m the one at fault, I doubt it though.
You’ll always hate the ones you love, ever since I was one my crack addicted mother has been screaming that in my face. It’s a wonder I never took up cocaine, like mother like daughter. Maybe that’s her dark reason for why she hurts me so much. I’ve never thought about why she started her addiction, or if she ever tried to stop. I almost don’t care. She’s ruined my life by ruining hers.
Whenever I think of my life, all I can think of is how much its changed in the last years. How much I’ve given up for my addiction to pain, how much I’ve lost. Sometimes I think about just giving up, then I think about who will have control of my life if I can’t? You’d think someone with a habit like me would hate all forms of life, when really I just hate the waste of life. I love bunnies and puppies. My favorite food is pizza and I can’t help but love to break out into dance. This isn’t a part of me many get to see though, because I don’t let them see past my façade.
I just wish that life were easier. Maybe I wouldn’t have to torture myself with this pain, or have such anxiety about having friends. Maybe it’s time to throw away the blades, and ditch the one thing that has gotten me through my life. I’ll just put it into my little Hello Kitty jewelry box, and it’ll be there to remind me of my dark days, wish it was that easy.
I’ve thought about getting help one day, when the pain was so bad, I couldn’t even lift my arm. The thought of the nurses and counselors judging me was all I could think about though, so I hid my diseases. That’s really what it has formed into; I have no idea if it’s even curable. These thoughts made me pick up the blade, the pain made me cut it, the pain made me scream, and the bandage made me whole. Disgusting? You couldn’t walk a yard in my life.

I bet you’re judging me, calling me selfish, and hateful. Guess what, I scar my body because of those thoughts. Those thoughts keep me locked in my room. Who are you to judge me though? You, in your perfect life, with your perfect family. You have no idea what its like to be me. I struggle to wake up everyday, and you sit here reading this and trying to knock me down. Am I talking to myself? Will anyone ever read this? I don’t care. I just need to let these feeling loose. I’m a ticking time bomb.

I’m done with life. I’m done with it all. This is the last passage, so get ready for the ending. Its not happy, my prince charming or fairy godmother doesn’t come sweeping in and save me. I end my life. I didn’t want to, I didn’t know that the blade would slip, and that it would catch on my skin. I tried to scream for help, but no one heard. I lost control, and it was fatal. So, as you read this I hope you realize what was going through my mind, I didn’t mean any of it. I was just trying to live. I hope you take something from this, and I hope you’ve realized what your thoughts did to me.





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