I wish it would just all go away.
It hurts more and more everyday.
They think I don't hear; they think I don't listen.
I listen and hear perfectly.
"I want a girl who has boobs bigger than her rolls."
I watch them as their eyes flicker to me. I look back at Casey.
They don't see, they don't listen and they just speak.
I come home that night. That phase stuck in my mind.
It fills me with pain.
Are guys that shallow?
Do they only judge people by their looks?
I get into a fight with my sister; she hits, kicks and screams at me.
I feel awful. I just want it all to go away.
My sister runs to the lounge and I'm stuck in the kitchen; broken and defeated.
I see the knife on the sink. It lies there innocently.
I used it to cut the oranges for the afternoon tea.
I pick it up. I examine it. I place it back down.
I can't; I'm stronger then that.
My sister comes back in; we get into a fight again.
It's déjà vu.
She leaves the kitchen and I stay, broken and defeated again.
The knife lies on the sink.
I can't help it. I have no control over anything anymore.
I swipe it gently over my wrists so it leaves a slight scratch.
No blood comes out; I don't want to try it anymore.
I run to the bathroom sniffling and tears flowing down my cheeks.
I glance at the mirror and the mirror looks back at me.
Everything hurts and I rest my head on the counter, slowly I fall to my knees sobbing and wailing.
I keep taking and taking, absorbing the pain and now I'm actually feeling it.
I want someone to talk to but I'm scared, I'm very scared.
I think about my group of friends, one face sticks in my mind.
I think about it but I decide no.
I will save them pain. I will save myself any more pain.
I don't think I can absorb any more pain.
The door swings ajar, I can hear my sister's voice float from the lounge.
My wrist starts to throb a bit and it feels raw.
I lean back against the bathtub, my feet against the wall.
The bathroom is small. I kick the door shut.
It doesn't stay shut and I start to feel frustrated and angry.
Stay closed! Please, stay closed!
I sob even more and I can hear the front door open, then shut.
I freeze, listening intently.
Mom is home.
I turn off the bathroom lights and wipe my eyes; they are still red and puffy.
I walk past my mom to the sunroom; I leave the lights off so she can't see me very well.
I lay on the couch, wiping tear traces away from my cheeks.
She asks how my day is, I think horrible but my quiet voice replies with a fine.
Anything interesting happen? She queries. I reply with a no.
We don't talk anymore and Mom goes back to making dinner.
After composing my self for a few minutes I power walk out of the sunroom and through the kitchen to the study.
I remain there for a few minutes, silently crying.
Everything over the last couple of weeks has built up to this moment.
Why? Why must life test me so?
Haven't I all ready endured enough pain?
Alas, it was not to be and neither was me.
So I changed.
I wrote this on a day I was feeling really depressed and a guy actually said that line about one of my friends. We hate that guy now.
I have a plot working in my head and I'm going to keep this to about 10-12 chapters. Or hopefully I will...
Any constructive critiscm is welcomed and the title does tie in with the story, I promise.