The First Scar
Hey, guys. Those of you on my friends list most likely know about my vacation over last weekend....and my crush. I heard someone once say that love hurts, whether it's right or wrong. This love does hurt. I feel as if I'll never be able to have her for more than a friend. That in itself I should rejoice over, but I don't. I mourn it, because I'm so close yet so far. So this weekend, I did something I never expected to do....
I cut myself. For the first time.
(This is not my wrist, by the way.)
I sit here alone upon the porch with everyone else inside.
I left because my emotions rose to heights I could not hide.
I miss her so much that I'm sick, to a point I only feel hurt,
To a point that I feel cold isolation that no one can comfort.
Every time I see her laughing smile, I love her even more,
But now that I don't see her at all my heart is rubbing sore.
A thought comes to me, and I'm too shocked to try and push it away.
In fact, I didn't even care at all; my opinion no one could say.
I walked inside and picked up something that would solve all of my strife,
And no one noticed me walk to the bathroom, my hand clenched on a knife.
I locked myself in, breathing heavily, cold steel against my wrist;
I think again of the party she made, all the fun that I have missed.
Before I pull the changing stroke, I feel tears fall down my face.
In a party of many, I've never felt so alone in a crowded, rowdy place.
I pulled the blade, and pain mixed with blood as my wrist began to swell,
But the pain was comfort, a distraction from life, for mine is a living hell.
Thus begins the first scar.
I left because my emotions rose to heights I could not hide.
I miss her so much that I'm sick, to a point I only feel hurt,
To a point that I feel cold isolation that no one can comfort.
Every time I see her laughing smile, I love her even more,
But now that I don't see her at all my heart is rubbing sore.
A thought comes to me, and I'm too shocked to try and push it away.
In fact, I didn't even care at all; my opinion no one could say.
I walked inside and picked up something that would solve all of my strife,
And no one noticed me walk to the bathroom, my hand clenched on a knife.
I locked myself in, breathing heavily, cold steel against my wrist;
I think again of the party she made, all the fun that I have missed.
Before I pull the changing stroke, I feel tears fall down my face.
In a party of many, I've never felt so alone in a crowded, rowdy place.
I pulled the blade, and pain mixed with blood as my wrist began to swell,
But the pain was comfort, a distraction from life, for mine is a living hell.
Thus begins the first scar.
6 Comments
message me):
oh my gosh, i can understand ur pain, but u shouldn't cut urself
Omg, I'm so sorry! I understand your pain :(
But I agree with Scorpia911, you shouldn't cut yourself!
No matter what happens, in the end, you'll always get by. There'll always be people there for you :)
like me!!!
Don't do this! MESSAGE ME ASAP!
listen to Scars by Papa Roach!