For years I have been left to ponder whether this life, the one I am forced to live every single day, is pointless? Why should I continue to live in constant agony? My father once told me, "No matter what happened, there is always good within," well I'm sorry dad, but I call bullshit. It wasn't until 9th grade, a girl, I can't recall her name, it started with an 'M', but I remeber her face clearly, dark eyes, almost like that of night, the darkness inside reflected upon anyone who dare peer into her beady eyes. Her short cropped blonde hair swept across her forehead, disguising who she truly was, and the long sweaters that hid her self-destruction. It wasn't till then, I truly began to live. I can remeber when she would show me the crimson fresh cuts that thrived on her wrists, revealing their own damnation. She would sometimes have me watch as she traced the blade deep into her forearm, and I was so astounded by the fact of harming one's self could be relieving. Her decisions led me to a rather favorite addiction. The high it gave me. As the blade dug deep into my thigh, carving an intricate story, a story of my life. Perhaps it'll also be the one to create my denoument.
Hello readers
If you've actually gotten this far??
I hope you are enjoying this.
I dedicate this chapter to those who have suffered at the hands of self-harming and such. I know what it is like to be caught admist. And if you EVER need someone to talk too, please do not be afraid to message me, I am always open, and I will not judge, and if I can, I will do anything too help.
Thank you once again for reading
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Have a wonderful day/night!
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This Is My Goodbye
Short Story"She was like a star, nothing but a beautiful echo of death" Ultimately I had to choose an escape from my past. For years, the constant weight of what they all did, has brought me to my knees, I forgive those who have wronged me. And accept judgemen...
