Runaway love

New day, same ole' shit

"You are out here chasing around with that stupid ass boy, the only thing you will wind up with is a baby", "My father" yelled while hitting me. I couldn't stand this nigga. I constantly had thoughts about killing this man. This man ain't my real dad, he and his wife adopted me but he's the only father figure I've ever known.

"Nobody will ever love you so get that thought out of your head. Nobody wants a girl not so far from the color chocolate, nappy hair, and big thighs."

My black is beautiful I thought. I love the way my hair is naturally nappy and I love my skin color. I'm getting used to it, to be honest. It doesn't hurt that much anymore. At the same time, I shouldn't be used to this. Ever since his wife Mrs. King died I've had to become everything he's wanted in a woman. How could I be someone's woman when I'm only 16? I can't even live the regular life I want and I never had or will have a chance to be a teenager. I cook, I clean, and I'm a sex slave.

"Go get clean and dressed, I got some people waiting on you." he told me smugly. I hated this shit I've been putting money to the side so I can dip.

.I doubt anyone knows how much that shit hurts to know you're unwanted and just a waste of someone's space. Some people feel as though they're unwanted but sadly I know I am unwanted. I don't understand what I did for him to hate me so much. I try to be the best person I can be towards him. I really wish everything was the way it is supposed to be, but it's not and I'm know I cant deal with any of this anymore. I'm tired of always having to be strong when that's the last thing I can do...

As soon as I reached my room I ran into the bathroom. As I sat on the toilet seat I lit a blunt I had put up from earlier. Letting the smoke exhale from my lips I instantly felt kind of hyped that I'll be closer to getting the fuck out of here. Within two weeks I'll be gone.

Afterward, I got out the shower and instantly I started looking for my pain reliever, looking on top of the mirror finding my favorite thing ever. My blade from my pencil sharpener. I sat on the toilet, pulling up my sleeves. Looking at my left arm that was filled with previous cuts. I slid the razor across my left arm ever so gently. I did it often, sadly. I watched as the blood fell onto my hardwood floor. Slowly smiling at myself. It's sad how I have to act like I'm happy when actually I'll rather be dead or something, I don't deserve, I wouldn't wish this on my own worse enemy.

I don't understand anything at this point.