November 11th, 2009
As soon as I woke up, I knew it wouldn't be a good day. There was not a sigh of light in my window and I could hear the wind blowing throught the roof. I was good about that day. The temperature didn't get better, neither was I.
I was invisible at school. Just to try, I get up in the middle of the math class and everyone did like they didn't saw me. You need to experience this to know how it feels. But damn it, you don't want to. You don't want to jus tsat back without even hearing whisperings in your back telling how weird you are. You don't want to feel the tears coming into your eyes and falling on your cheeks without being able to contain them. You don't want to get back up and run outside of the room. You don't want to not be retained.
That's what happened to me. After that, I ran back home. I wasn't feeling well at all. I locked myself in the bathroom, crying again. I was tired of crying over and over, I was tired of being weak. After a while, I heard to front door opening then closing and I knew that Waliyha was back home. So I just get up and started the shower. I didn't wanted her to her my cries. She already had enough to think about. I grabbed one blade of my razor and I saw down again, my back on the door. I cut my skin again, there was mutliple marks on my wrist. It shouldn't surprised you. I was bad. So damn bad.
After cleaning the mess I had made, I get back into my room and just laid on my bed. I didn't even changed my clothes, they were dirty from the blood but I didn't mind. I was just looking at the ceiling, feeling so damn empty.
It was the first time in a while that I was truly thinking about myself.
I was mostly thinking about what I had done. That time, I was thinking about me. How I was feeling. I wasn't just feeling sad. I was feeling like there was something missing inside of me. Like... I don't know how to explain this. Like a part of me had been took and threw away. Something I couldn't get back. It was strong enough to make me feel cold, even after I had put my jogging and my sweater on. Even under all of my blankets.
I realized that I wasn't strong enough to deal with this feeling. That it was starting to destroy me. Little by little, but it was. I used to smile, always. By then, I was only forcing myself to look a bit happy. And when I was alone, I was holding a blade or crying. Or both.
I'm not strong, neither was I. I never been. I'm the weak part of that family. Everybody is stronger than me. Everybody did it. I didn't.
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So, I didn't really know what I wanted to do with that, so I just explained Zayn's feeling over himself. I tried, at least !