depressed, seriously

Self Portrait

She is walking on a never ending path. In a never ending world, full of never ending shit. It is constantly raining. Black, powerful rain. It never stops and barely ever slows down. She is always bleeding. Her wounds don’t heal. They don’t from scars, they’re just there. The path is her life. The rain is her tears. The blood is from her pain inside. Sometimes she has real blood from her arms. She reaches for that beautiful pocketknife. The thing that will solve all of her problems. It’s blue. It’s her best friend. She flips out the smaller knife, changes her mid, and flips out the bigger one. She exposes her wrist and cuts. Nothing happens. She cut with the wrong side of the blade. Probably because she got drunk and high again. She just wants the pain to go away. She tries the other side and gets that beautiful crimson line. The little thing that helps everything. But tonight she decides that one cut is not enough. She makes another for her meaningless life. On for her bitch mother. One for her bitch sister. One for the guy she loves. One for the pain she’s caused her best friend, for the worry, for the sadness. One for life in general. She sighs and is somewhat contented with seven. She contemplates committing the ultimate act of freedom. Suicide. But then she thinks no, that would be selfish and self-centered. Her friend once said that if she killed herself, her friend would too. She didn’t want to find out if her friend was bluffing. She goes outside and lays in the grass. It’s the middle of the night and everyone is asleep. She just lays there, absorbing the darkness. It’s comforting and frightening at the same time. She goes back in after about an hour. She wraps her wrist so her mom thinks she fell and hurt it. Her mom will never know about the cuts. Never know about her special friend that she keeps by her bed. Never know what’s going on in her head. She goes back into her room and stares at herself in the mirror for a long time. She criticizes herself on being so fat. She scowls at her legs and stomach. She hates them. She wishes she looked like one of the cheerleaders. They were all so skinny. Half of them were probably anorexic. She thinks about that option but decides against it. Her friends would notice, especially after their Winter Guard competitions started. She then scowls at her face. She tells herself how ugly she looks. How horrible her features are. She hates everything about herself. She hates even her handwriting. It looks like chicken scratches unless she writes really slowly. The only good things in her life were her friends, guard, and band. And at the moment she wasn’t enjoying band much. She is constantly battling with herself over everything. Smoking being one of the biggest things. She has easy access to cigarettes. She thinks about giving the ones she has to her friend to make the temptation go away. It would be a lot easier to resist if her main temptation was gone. Her sister smokes. Her sister had smoked cigars before. Pot. Cigarettes. Her sister was a whole lot worse on that subject than she was. Of course, she quit smoking. Her sister didn’t. Even more tempting than the cigarettes is the knife. Sometimes she can’t resist. But most of the time she can if she thinks about what it does to her best friend. She doesn’t think her best friends can take much more of her ‘abusing’ herself. She wants to run away. She wants to escape her mentally abusive mother. She sits on her bed with a pen and some paper. She starts writing. Writing is the only way she can get out her feelings. She hates talking about things that bother her. That’s one of her main problems with her mom. Her mom always wants to ‘talk’ whenever they have a really bad argument but she freezes up and it ends in another argument. So far, her best friend has convinced her not to commit suicide, but her best friend was asleep now, so she couldn’t talk to her. She wasn’t sure what to do. She was in a bad place in her mind. She didn’t know what she was feeling and her mind was racing so fast that she couldn’t keep up. She got her knife back out and made a mark on her wrist, preparing to cut it one last time. Vertically. Killing was the intent. She took the knife to her wrist and one thought came to her head:
Amanda
She thought:
No I can’t do this. Amanda might
do something horrible. She might
get depressed and kill herself. There’s
no way to know except to kill myself,
but I’m not sure I want to find out if
it’s a bad outcome.
She stopped. She put down the knife, and started writing another poem. It was for Amanda. Her savior. Amanda. Her sister. Well, not her biological sister, but her sister nevertheless. She couldn’t do this. Once again the thought of it being selfish came to her. She washed off the mark so that her mom wouldn’t see it in the morning. She looked at her right hand. It was wrapped around her wrist because of earlier. The pain started coming back. But there was nothing she could do. She wouldn’t; cut anymore. She is walking on a never ending path. In a never ending world, full of never ending shit. It is constantly raining. Black, powerful rain. It never stops and barely ever slows down. She is always bleeding. Her wounds don’t heal. They don’t form scars, they’re just there.

Could there be any light???

Hamster

WOW WOW WOW...i'm completely breathless. This is amazing. I am just speechless. Hunny, you'll be okay. You can pull through whatever it is in this life that is bothering you so much. This amanda girl, she has obviously helped you a lot. Talk to her, she sounds like a great person who would love to talk, and if you don't want to talk to her, I'm always around, I would love to talk to you. I am so glad that you said you wouldn't cut anymore...It'll be hard i know, but I also know you can do it. Please stay strong sweetie...please!! If you ever need to talk, I am around!!
Love always
Sammy

well the story was real good, it showed a lot of feeling, i wish i could get everything out... i know what you mean about your mother, mines the same.. when you just want to be alone, just once, they want to talk, burst in your room, demand you to come down stair... you want to cry, scream... but you cant, you keep real quiet, still... hoping if you dont say a word, she will forget you even exist and go away... but she dont and keeps going on and on and on...
also the knife, cutting wrists, someone i know who caused me a lot of depression, he cut his wrists because he wanted to die, and it was selfish.. because i felt real bad, i feel its my fault.. when he was the abult in the situation, he did it to me... and still he make me feel like shit about myself, made me feel small and make me feel like i was nothing...
im nothing and im not pretty, i dont want to be pretty anymore (if i am... which im not) i dont want people to ever look at me again, i wish it was a sin to look at me, i wanna be so ugly everyone will leave me alone, never touch me again...
well the story was good and i kinda know how you feel....
love
unknown

by the way you ever want to talk..

cpruce@hotmail.com

just email, or i got msn...

your story has a few bits ive tried to explain i feel but never can... thanx

well i hope you ok... contact me