TW: Depressive thoughts, Mentions of self-harm, Bullying,
DISCLAIMER: Please don't do this and seek help if you experience any of this.
Also, I will be writing this on second person. I think reading too much reader-self inserts got to me that it just turned into the default now.
If you don't want to die, then live
A suffocating air full of tension hug in the air, stubbornly clinging on it, not wanting to disappear. But that did not matter to you. Not to you now anyways. People avoided you like the plaque, just one look at the scars that littered your limbs were evident enough that you were someone that they should avoid, lest they want to experience the same things as you did by the wicked people.
A girl who was never meant to be born. That is what you always thought of, as the wounds and bruises got worse. Each blow and insult you sucked in makes your heart crumble as it continued to increase and increase. You have tried to seek help, none of it worked.
Grades dropped.
Mental state worsened.
Heart crumbling.
Yet, you thought there is a way to cope with this. You never minded the pain as crimson red liquid dripped down your limbs. You feel...relieved,, as if a weight had been unloaded. To chase after the feeling again and again, the ritual continued until it became a habit. A habit that you would never give up on.
Even if it is for the temporary relief that accompanies the pain, you will give anything for it. Just for that one moment. Just for that moment when everything seems to be normal. With your happy friends and once living family, when your heart was as healthy as ever.
When you are not littered with scars
A/N: So I have finished my first second person story. (Somehow feels better than when I write first person or third person) Also please note the disclaimer above. And please, don't do these things.
Word count: 1.8 K
If you would like to enjoy content like this, please check out my tumblr, @sparkwrites4nothing! Thank you!
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