Story of a hidden emo
This is the prologue for my newest story...
I really hope you all like it...
this is a sad story, but i hope you like it
:] :) :p
Story of A Hidden Emo
Life sucks. Every teenage says these two simple words at one point or another in their life, some more often then others. I personally say these words every night to my best friend, my razorblade.
I promised my friends I would stop, because I could see the fear and concern they were feeling as the number of my scars grew in size each day. As far as they knew, I had. But in reality, I just couldn't, I didn't have the strength.
Cutting was my only escape, the only way for the gruesome details of my miserable life to slip my mind. Even if it was only momentary, it was too much to give up. The feeling of the cold metal slicing through my soft, feeble skin is painful as first. Then, as I saw my scarlet blood pouring slowly from my wrist, the pain would vanish, replaced by numbness. This was the only time in my poor excuse for a life that I wasn't required to think or feel morbid thoughts. It was the most enjoyable moment for me, the highlight of my life if you will.
Therefore I could not stop.