Eternal darkness

When darkness is all you consume, you truly ask yourself if there is a light, or if that is just fuel people feed you to keep you going through life. It's all going to be better soon they say. But is it? The countless times I have asked myself these questions really get me questioning about whether or not there is something to live for. I quarry the significance in life because for some strange reason god has dished out happiness on a silver platter for everyone else and I only get the scraps. When I was younger my mom mentioned something about god. How we were all his children and no matter how bad we were he would always forgive our sins and accept our mistakes because he created us to live life. It sure doesn't seem that those same rules apply to me.

The salty liquid welled up in my eyes before swiftly cascading down my pale, washed out face in perfectly formulated teardrops. Soon enough my silent cries transformed into silent sobs. That's always the worst ones. The silent kind, the kind where all you want to do is scream for someone to hear your unheard voice, for someone to see how truely broken you are behind all the fake smiles and forced laughter. But you remain voiceless. I wipe violently at my cheeks in attempt to dry my now tear stained face and when I draw back my hands I see they are smudged with black. Once I collect myself I take a quick glance in the mirror to see if my episode was noticeable. The image in the reflective surface frightens me. My fine dyed blonde hair falls naturally dead straight over my shoulders just past the breast pocket of my earthy green long sleeved shirt. My side swept bangs covered my left eye brow and the very corner of my eye. A heaping pound of black mascara painted the thick lush forest of eyelashes that framed my chocolate brown eyes, and many bloodshot veins skirted around my dark uninviting iris. The ruins of my eye make up mixed with tears run in rivers down past my high cheek bones. I throw my bag over my shoulder and unzip the pocket, seeking my tissues. I shove my hand into the jumbled mess of books and paper, searching blindly, until I retrieve the small blue packet. I rip it open and pull out a white, neatly folded cloth and clean myself up. Once I have reapplied my mascara and eye liner you cannot even tell I had been crying. Satisfied, I take the half full pocket sized packet of tissues and go to put them away when something catches my eye. The dim bathroom light caught on the pair of scissors laying at the bottom of my back pack. A though crosses my mind. Possibility. You could no it you know, I think to myself. Make It all momentarily fade away. Just one more to add to the collection of scars clothing my petite fragile body. One more wouldn't hurt.

No more pain

No more suffering

I stop myself self short. School is not a place for that I argue with myself. I'll just have to wait until I get home.

The final bell signaling that we can go home is like music to my ears. The corridors flood with students all eager to get out of this hell hole. I press against the wall, completely covered in flyers for clubs and upcoming events, and try not to draw attention to myself. As soon as I step outside a cool autum breeze tickles my face, playing with my wispy hair. I roughly throw on my black hoody and hide in the safety of the hood. Students stare at me funnily as I walk past, looks of disgust clearly written on their face. But I've learned to get over it after all this time. I finally manage to smile when I walk out of the school gates, knowing that im free from humiliation for two whole days. I pop in my headphones and blast the music, drowning out the world around me. I walk slowly, yet eagerly towards the bridge.

The bridge was built 5 years ago over a river that flows into the ocean. The council decided to build it to join the two pieces of land and create a sidewalk to encorage more people to exercise and to acknowledge the beautiful environment here. For the first 3 years it was a success. Everyone

would come here and walk, cycle

Skateboard you name it. Well they did come until july 17th 2011. A 14 year old girl, who was the same age as me at the time, committed suicide. She just couldn't think of anything else that would stop the pain, so she let go, she jumped. That girls name was Taylor Evans.

My twin sister.