Trapped In The Depth of The Dark.

August 25, 2011
By Anonymous

Shaking i wake,
past my door, through the hall into the bathroom.
So many tears I've cried tonight, so many sobs i've exthaled.
I look into the mirror and process the image,
It's unrecognizable.
I think it over and finally I grab the razor.
It's the one my dad uses, the really sharp one.
Carefully I lower it to my wrist.
Quickly I press it against my skin,
feeling the sharp end of it as it meets my flesh.
It burns, but it hasn’t done any real damage,
so I press harder.
That's when I pause.
I look again into the mirror my eyes are red.
Red with pain, anger and hurt.
I’m biting into my lips.
I stop pressing,
and look down.
I remove the razor from my wrist,
I look behind it. It has left a mark.
barely noticeable but still there.
I put back the razor, knowing that my dad won’t notice.
I take another look into the mirror
and then i walk away, I walk almost zombie like.
Once in my room I sit on my bed,
then protectively I cover myself with my blanket.
In my head I start mentally writing, and that's when I grab paper and a pen.
I start writing in the dark, because i can’t believe what I was about to do.
Somehow the dark makes it better. Almost unreal.

The author's comments:
I wrote this after a long night, when I fell into this depression, and I almost made a huge mistake, gradly something pulled me out of it and I didn't do anything.

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