I Can't

chapter 1

School, that one place other than a stupid pageant where you are judge for literally everything you say and do.

Everyone does this, you may not think it but trust me they do, all of them, especially when they are around their friends. They all have groups, you got the populars, stoners, teachers pets, intelligent, jocks, sport hogs, gamers, and the outsiders. And that's where I stand in this whole group thing if you were wondering.

There aren't many people in this group and...

You probably don't care but hey, it was worth a try.

Anyways, today felt extra long for some odd reason. Even though it's Friday. I just want today to be over already. I'm so done with everything. I just want to go home and shove my face into my pillow and forget about the world. Forget that there is a dance coming up, forget that I'm probably failing in almost all of my classes, forget that the thought is always on my mind, that my scars itch and burn, that nobody cares.

It's 5th period. Everyone in this hallway is so much taller than I am that I get easily overwhelmed just standing by my locker. A few people push past me but I guess I didn't really notice. Soon after that franticness you call a hallway I reached my class. As I walked in the door I feel a slight tap on my shoulder and turn to see him. The one I've been dreading to talk to because I get so nervous that my hands start to sweat and my words slur.

"I think you dropped this when you were walking in the hallway." He said as his hand reaches out to hand me my pencil.

"T-thanks, I hadn't noticed that I dropped it." I hesitated a little.

He nodded in...I don't know whatever people nod in when they are in that situation. I turned around and face palmed so hard I thought my nose broke. He literally gave me my pencil that I dropped and I was almost having a panic attack. I didn't know that it was this bad.

Him and I share almost every period except for 5th and 6th. Which I was happy about because 5th period is art and I don't want him to think I'm weird. Why would he think I'm  weird? I don't know my brain is weird that's why.

6th period is the just drama but I really don't do anything.

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Ahh yes my pillow. My only friend. The one with the most memories. I'm sorry that you are tear stained. I plop myself onto my pillow and quietly lay there. No tears. There aren't any left. I'm wore out. I try but still nothing. I feel nothing. I'm not sad but I'm not exactly happy either. I have no reason to cry but yet I'm dying inside. You know, depression is weird, one moment you could be great and laugh with your friends but then all of a sudden your sad but there isn't a reason yet there are a million that you can't think of. I go through this everyday. The same feelings. It gets old you know but I get used to it. It's my routine. But I hate when people ask what's wrong. I have no answer because I don't know. There are no words to explain it. Well none that I've found and if there is I will eventually find them so then I could explain it and scare the shit out of someone that was once so close to me.

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Saturday. A wet one in fact. I personally love the rain. It's really amazing, the things you think about while sitting on your steps and listening to the thunder role across the clouds and the lighting flash that lights up the sky. It then starts to pour. So beautiful. I think the reason I really love rain is because I know that the sky screams too.

Another shattering sound comes from the sky and slightly vibrates the walls around me. I love the feeling that washes over me when I'm sitting in the rain. It's not hopeless but it's not sorrow and it's not fear. It's more of an acceptence kind of feeling. Like for some reason the sky, the clouds, the rain, they understand.

I walked back inside and was welcomed with a cold, dark room full of emptyness. My mother won't be home until later tonight.

I enter my bathroom to dry off and change into something  warmer. I noticed my eyes wander around my body. How disgusting it looks, all the scars. My expression turns to distaste. I'm such an ugly, fat, useless, vile, foul, worthless piece of nothing. I hate it and I deserve every scar, every name.

I listen to the creak of my door as I walk into my room. I plop myself onto my bed and stare at the ceiling thinking. About what, I don't really know. Maybe that I'm done fighting my demons, I'm just so tired of fighting them that I've just decided to stop. They have already over powered me and soon enough I know I will become them. But I've come to except that. I don't care anymore.

Tears start to roll down my face, they're warm. I haven't felt these on my face in a long time and it felt good. I reach my hand over to my right and curl my fingers around a cold metal object.

One- I follow the red, warm liquid down my arm
Two- slits through with ease
Three- I close my eyes
Four- it's becoming numb
Five- It feels good
Six- I can't feel it anymore
Seven- I can't stop it anymore

I continue with this familiar motion for a while, feeling this numbness on both arms. It doesn't faze me anymore. Nothing does...