I want To be Free

Big and stick tears fall down my cheeks. I look at the blood stains at my small bathroom's floor and thought about how many times I have done this but no one has ever notices.

After awhile, I drop the knife, clean my wounds, and stand up the best I can with a bloody left hand and holding a towel with the other hand.

I clean the steam off the mirror and stared down the girl in front me; her baby blue eyes look death and they had dark purple bags under them. Her clean skin was pale and a blank impression cover her face. I wonder what happen to that happy-good-attitude girl; was she on vacation? Or better yet was she death? I do not know and honestly I do not want to know.

I start to put on my underwear, slowly tracings my scars down. I hated the way they make me feel, like a monster that should not be living. I want to make them and their stories disappear, to be gone and be free  but I knew that it could never happen. It was just a stupid little dream of mine.

As I put on my long jeans, I remember the first time I cut, it was a small little cut along my left wrist; it was not too deep, they never are. I remember the feelings I got; pain, control, and strangely calmness. I liked it. However, I promise myself that I will never do it again, that will control myself and I did, for a few days then things got difficult again and well the rest is another scar for another time.

After I make sure my sipper is sip and my button is buttoned, I put on my black long shirt slowly and with care hoping not hurt my newly fresh scars. I proceed to put on my black socks and converses. I apply my make-up last, like I always do; dark blue eyeliner, some mascara and light pink lip gloss.

I, one again, gaze to the girl in the mirror; her skin had little more color, her eyes did not look death anymore but they did not have life either. I stare at her for long time and slowly, she smile; a sad smile. It looks like she wanted to say something, anything but she could not.

“Sweetheart, are you done? We have to go.” I heard my mother called.

“Almost, mom” I softly whisper “almost.”

I finish any last minute things and look back to the girl at the mirror, her eyes had a different expression than minutes before, I don't exactly what they were saying but I knew something, she wants to be free.

I got out of my bathroom with my biggest and fakes smile of all, ready to go back to a life where my only freedom is my blood.

(C) Chana300