She gets home from school, throws off her backpack, and runs into her bedroom.
She slams the door shut, locks it, then dives onto her bed.
She has had the desire to cry all day, but had held it in.
She still remains clueless of what is causing her troubles after 7 years.
This year however takes the biggest toll.
She lies in the center of her bed curled up in a ball, crying.
Crying so hard she feels the whole world knows.
She feels that she is sending out vibrations, causing the earth to seem dull and gray.
She feels her body getting weak, her eyes getting heavy.
Then she falls into a deep sleep.
Again, she has cried herself to sleep. As her dreams either come with peace, hope and happiness, or fear, worry, and no hope at all.
When she awakens, she either feels refreshed and joyful,
or feels like her world is crumbling down.
As another week goes by, she seems to be getting more and more depressed.
Each day goes by as though in slow motion.
Then finally as the week comes to an end, she decides to try something new.
She stares at herself in the mirror. A blank look stares back.
She looks away, and over at the wall.
She sees it. What she wants. A tack. She pulls it, slowly out of the wall.
She pours some alcohol to sterilize the sharp tack.
Once she feels its sterilized, she wipes it, stares at herself in the mirror once again.
She sticks out her arm, and as she puts the tip of the tack on her fragile wrist,
And draws a deep, thick, line across she bits down on her lip,
and tears roll down her face/
Not because of the pain, but because she has gotten to this level, this upset,
to harm herself,
When she lifts the tack off her arm, blood begins to ooze out of the cut.
Bright red blood drips down her arm, across her hand,
as it slide down her index finger, she falls to the ground,
and a drop of blood falls to the ground and as she weeps at what she has done,
And clasps her hands over her face, she thinks of why she is so upset,
Why she has been so upset for so long.
She removes her hands from her face, stares at the wound, the blood rushing out,
She picks up the tack again, wipes it off, then draws another line on wrist, and another, and another.
She stares at the cuts. She just stares. Rubs her wrist and the blood smears.
A tear drop falls a top of one of the marks. Then she hears her phone vibrate.
She picks it up, and she sees that she has received a text message from her friend.
She feels feels bad about what she did. About how she hurt herself.
She decided to tell her friend.
Her friend said that she is upset with her. That that was a stupid thing to do.
She made her promise to never do it again.
And that it doesn't only hurt her, but both of them. That she cares about her.
She promised. And know, she is very thankful to her friend.
So know, every time she want to cut herself again, she thinks of her promise,
And doesn't. She thanks her friend for preventing her from going to far,
Hurting herself even worse.
All she wants to say, is Thank You.
