She bit her lip as the knife cut smoothly into the skin on her arm. She watched as the blood slowly ran from the open wound, a vibrant red. She exhaled with relief as she pulled the knife away, satisfied with the cut she's made. She stared at the blood as it ran down the sink. Her blood. Her arms were riddled with scars. Scars she made. Scars to relieve the pain. She could feel all the pain and sorrow drain with every drop of blood that left her body and as the bleeding slowly stopped, she sighed.
She had been cutting herself for years. It was the only way she knew how to relieve the pain, the pain of rejection. Somehow, the bleeding made her feel better. It was not a cry for help. It was merely an act that suited how she felt. Scarred and pitiful. Her feelings of self-pity ran deep and her self mutilation was the food that fed the beast that lived inside her. If she wasn't beautiful on the inside, how could she be beautiful on the outside?
No comments:
Post a Comment