They have forced me into a room with this annoying shirk who obviously no's I'm a headcase, and just won't admit it to herself. She has annoying outlook on life, like it all sunshine and rainbows. Even when it's not. When everything comes crashing down slowly, but painfully none the less. She talks to me like a toddler. Like I can't think for myself. Like if she talk to loud I will crumble. As if I'm delicate. Like a flower. But I'm not. I'm not weak. I'm not delicate. What made her think that confuses me. Obviously I'm not delicate. I never will be.
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Story Of A Cutter
Teen FictionThis is not about me. Welcome to the deep dark mind of a cutter. I am Jordan. I guess I should just come right out and tell you this, I am a cutter. My wrists, legs, arms, and stomach hold my pain. They show what I am going through, I have kept it a...