Purple Scars

Scars

Scars can be both good and bad scars. A good scar would a scar that can't be seen, like a story you can look back on. A victory in a sport, or an achievement you have accomplished. A bad scar would be a scar that you can see. Cutting to make you feel free, to make you feel nothing at all. Yeah, I've been in that boat before. I was at a point of my life where I wanted everyone who has ever hurt me to go away. To make the pain go away. I have cutted how many times in my life. A lot. I have sat in my purple colored room, alone, with the ibky light being my childish night light. And I sat in my little corner, pondering on what life had in store for me. Wondering if my life would ever get better. Wishing for someone to reach out their hand and help me in this helpless pit of misery. But, no came for a long time. I would walk around the hallways of school and wonder if anyone would notice the deep cuts on my forearm and ask me if I was okay. But no one knew. No one had known for sometime. I was the quietest out of my group of friends. Even at the lunch, which is where we get a break from homework and annoying teachers, I was quiet. I wanted to shout. I wanted to claw myself out of the hopeless pit of depression and scream for someone to help me. But again, no one could hear. I was stuck for the longest time. Almost a whole year, until I couldn't take it much longer. I walked up to my bestest friend, a friend that I trust, and told her that I wanted to talk to her for a while. She agreed and stepped away from the rest of the group. I was speechless at that point that she would actually take the time to listen to what I have to say. I gulped down my fears and anxiety and started by rolling up my sleeve. The sleeve with a single word on it..WEAK. As soon as she saw my arm, she immediately stepped away from me, as if I was a contagious disease, and looked at me with horror in her light green eyes. No words came out of her mouth. She covered her mouth with her pale hand and rushed to tell the rest of my friends. I tried to stop her, but it was too late. Every one of my friends knew my secret. Too late to turn back. I suddenly felt ashamed for what I have done and rushed away from my friends and down to my next class and quickly sat down in my seat. I put my head in my hands and I didn't pay attention to anything the teacher was saying. I never expected my friend to act that way. I never expected anything to happen. I figured she wouldn't tell anyone and guide me back to the life of happiness. That never happened. That will never happen, said the voice inside my head. I began to get that temptation again. That itching feeling that was going to solve all of my problems.

As soon as class was over I rush to my dad's classroom. Yeah, I'm one of five kids that is related to a teacher. My dad doesn't even know everything that I know. I just remembered that I have dance tonight. Crap. What if everyone notices? What will happen if every one of my friends befriends me because of what I have done? I guess its time to go get ready for dance...