Tears Don't Erase Scars

Hatred Beyond Belief

Hate cages all the good things about you. ~Terri Guillemets

I sat there staring at the computer screen looking at my best friend say things to me I would have never thought she would have. Where was this all coming from? What did I do to deserve this? I never wanted to cry because I thought there was no reason to, but as she kept messaging and I kept reading, the tears fought their way through my eyes to my cheeks.

I cried. She was my best friend and all I could think was ‘why?’ I asked her what she was talking about and all I got where more hateful messages back stating I had betrayed her after she had confided in me. It all came flashing back to me. The tears came full swing and wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

I didn’t think it was important. That it would be taken seriously. That it would turn my own very best friend against me. I knew I would regret posting it but I did anyways, not thinking of how fragile the subject was to her. The self loathing came immediately. I could never keep my mouth shut. No matter what or how important it was.

My hands found the keyboard and started typing apologies and how it was all a big misunderstanding, which only back fired in the end insulting her even more. All I could do was think about how many times this happened and how many lives I ruined and caused heart ache because of this. The wave of hatred came towards me and right now I couldn’t think of a reason to try to find the surface.

The memories of the previous time I had let something slip was the first thing to come to mind. It took her forever to even consider me even slightly trust worthy again. I never knew things would end up so horrible. And now this I did it again. Not in the same means but it still did cause pain towards other people.

All I could think, was how I never feel the same amount of pain they feel when I do this. Open my mouth and spill all of their secrets they trusted me to keep. And everyone knows that emotional pain is not the same as physical pain. The idea was meandering around my mind for months. I just never had the guts to do it. I always told myself ‘Elise don’t do it. You love yourself’. But right now I couldn’t compile any love for myself right now. All that was there was hatred and loathing of the mistakes I constantly made in life.

I don’t know why I looked back at the screen, probably for reassurance of the evidence.  I saw the words and they cut me deep. Deeper than anything. I could see why she could not want to tell me any thing anymore. That she didn’t want to be friends. Why she wanted nothing to do with me. And this only put more on my plate of mistakes in my life.

The thought was more evident in my mind now. I had to equal the pain, if not make mine more. I had to really think about this. Did I really want to do this? I heard stories about teenagers who did this. Did it hurt? Did they ever go away and if so how?

I had made many mistakes in my life. I didn’t have perfect grades like I used to. I didn’t have a body to be a ballerina and I was too short to be a model. I even ruined my paper. My TERM PAPER. MY PUBLISHED TERM PAPER!!!!!! I was supposed to be perfect at it I was supposed to be one of, if not, the best. The pain of seeing my failure and pity in the audience eyes was degrading. Especially of my classmates. I lost all self respect and tried to bury that day along with all of the embarrassing memories. But they were all surfacing now.

I winced as the memories engulfed me in my own torture. The tears were hysterical now. I hated that I did all of these embarrassing things that. They were mistakes that should have never happened. They were wrong and ruined my life.

The thought was looking more appealing than ever now. I deserved it. I did. For the life time of worry I had on my family, the bad grades I had in school, and the daily persecution I bring to school with me every day that my friends had to persevere through. I was a burden to everyone I was around. My physical appearance wasn’t any better. I was just awful. I will do it. I had to.

This isn’t for me. Not at all. It is for all of the people my very being had caused distraught. I had confirmed it. I had to do it. I didn’t care anymore about myself. I couldn’t. There wasn’t anything left to care about but worthless crap. I never would be a pleasure to anyone. I couldn’t see how. Never.

I thought about how my sister made it through all of this. The pressure. Of course she had it better. She wasn’t like me. The complete opposite.

I went and got the knife. My hand was shaking. Why? I had no clue because I was positive I wanted to do this. An eye for an eye or even more. I could hear the blood in my ears. The constant beating of my heart. I ran to the bathroom. I had to be prepared for it just in case it got messy and my worthless blood got on the carpet. I looked in the mirror and saw an enormity. Its black colorless eyes were bloodshot, dark circles hanging around, big red spots splattered all over its face, and lips were swollen. I looked at it with malice and the monstrosity mirrored me. I stabbed the mirror with the knife and screamed in absolute horror.

The mirror shattered and the glass spread everywhere. My sobs were blaring out of me. I was absolutely confident that I wanted to do it. I fumbled for something sharp and gave myself minor lacerations, but I gripped a shard of the mirror and sliced my forearm. I imediatley felt the pain and but the stinging aftermath brought a sort of high that energized me. I did it again and again loving the feeling of it but then I saw my arm and it was covered in blood.

 I dropped the shard and pushed myself up against the wall. I finally saw the error of my ways. I shook my head violently like it could undue everything, but the memory, the stinging, the exhilaration, it was still there.  I grabbed my hair and tried to pull out all of it. But when it didn’t really work ,I just tore a piece of my shirt of and started wiping the blood off. I licked some of my blood and all I could taste was remorse for what I did. But all I could do was say I did it for her and everybody. It made us even. I finally paid my debt.

“I AM SOO SORRY. BUT REMEMBER, IT WAS FOR YOU ALWAYS FOR YOU!!!” I yelled out.

I fixed up the wounds and pulled myself into my bed.

I cried like I never cried before. My pillow, baby blanket, moon and everlasting sky being my only companions. I forced myself to make promises to myself. One never to cut myself again. The stinging still wasn’t gone and I didn’t know if I liked it or not. The stinging was a reassurance that I will always remember this one.

 Two change. Never be the same again. It was kind of hard not to. I looked back at my arm and saw angry marks all along it. This was definitly a promise I could keep.

Lastly, never cry again. I cried too much tonight. I mean why cry if they did nothing but make your clothes wet and face swollen. Tears never do anything but show that you are weak. And after tonight I most definitly am never going to be called or be weak ever again. Nobody cares about tears in the real world, so why shed them.

 Elise Materson these are the promises you will keep throughout your life.