Diary Entry Numbero3;
It was now the middle of December, and there were only a couple months separating her from her fourteenth birthday, and she had no idea if she should even have one."I'm a worthless, good for nothing freak, who would want to celebrate the birth of someone like me.." She repeated this thought over and over in her head, as if they were the only words she knew anymore. By now, everyone stared and laughed at her in class. She had no one to turn too. Her parents were overly obsessed with religion, so if she went to them, all they'd do was tell her that God loved her, and that she was in their prayers. So, she took the pain, bottled it up inside, and promised herself that she would take care of it.
A few days passed. The sun rose and set. The mornings short, and the nights long. Oh, how she loved the night. Sam would sneak out of her room, tuck a blanket under her arm, and climb up to the roof. There she would lay out the blanket and stare up at the glistening stars. She would stay up there until her nose turned red from the cold, and crawl back inside to the heated up house.
When the sun rose at 5:30am, she would awake from her slumber and gets ready for the day, but, that day didn't seem like the rest. Something was off. She unlocked her phone, and went straight to Facebook. There she would find her profile covered in hate comments, as if it were a white shirt with newly splattered paint covering every inch of the pure cloth. The mean words just wouldn't cease as she continue to scroll down. Tears began to stream down her cheeks, her eyes turning red. All she could do was cry and take in more and more of the hate. Her body was just frozen, like a robot. She had no choice but to continue the same process over and over again. Cry, scroll, cry, scroll. After a horrible fifteen minutes of this, Sam stood up, walked to her dresser, and said in the mirror,"you are a good for nothing freak." The same words that she said when a boy in her class laughed at the scars, marking her arms. The marks she put there because she had no other way of expressing this pain she had bottled up deep inside of her. How else was she supposed to express it. No one cared. No one loved her. No one showed one bit of emotion towards her anymore. It was almost like she was just a figment of everyone's imagination. A dream, almost.
So, she expressed her pain. She took a razor and sliced at her right ankle, blood slithering down her ankle and to the heel of her foot. She didn't care anymore, she changed. She wasn't the person that made everyone laugh. She wasn't the old Sam.
YOU ARE READING
Tying To Find Myself
RandomA lonely girl, trying to figure out what to do in a sick and cruel world. But it isn't as easy as it seems, because every fairytail has it's horrific ending.
