I close the door to my room, blocking out the sound of conversation coming from downstairs.
Why don’t they understand me? Am I so different?
Fustrated, I sit in the silence for a while….
I reach for the drawer that hides the razor. I stare at my arm.
I stare at the blade.
In a sudden burst of emotions, with the demons in my head screaming ‘Just do it! Do it!’, I angerly began to leave cuts everywhere on my arm.
Why am I mad at the world?
Maybe because you said you’d always be there…

I cry now as I plug in the hot glue gun. In the moments it takes to heat up, I ask Why must I do this? I don’t have to.
Too late. Glue gun in hand, and emotions on edge, I sqeeze a blob onto a scrap of paper, quickly putting my wrist on top of it. The searing pain of my skin burning numbs the pain in my heart…or so I think…
It never used to be this way.
Now I am alone. With no one but my nightmares to keep me company…

Oh God, Why have You forsaken me?....