Author's Note: You probably won't want to read this. It's just one of those things I had to write.


Places I Thought I Would Never Go

I felt my heart crumble into a thousand pieces in a mere second. I looked at her and shut my eyes as if it was pain from the light. In reality, I was attempting to put a stand still on the liquid emotion, wanting to rain from my eyes.

Honestly, I should be used to it all by now. I really should, but I'm not! I'm sorry for taking things to hear. It's just sometimes I'd rather be hit than yelled at.

Oh, I keep waiting for it to happen—for her to go off and just punch me. It never does happen. I think that's what gets me—the waiting for her to yell or use that tone that makes me feel like dirt.

Most days I wonder if it would be a relief if she actually struck me. I mean that would be a crime. Her words can't be judged as an offense and be proven to hurt, despite all the tears I have cried. I feel guilty about feeling bad because of what comes out of her mouth.

They are just supposed to be words. Only words. Nothing else. But why do people manage to make me hate the person I am? I should be above the influence. These stupid words shouldn't be the thing that rips me apart inside.

Worse things have happened. Worse things are happening. They are right. I'm being oversensitive and a wimp.

Why does it hurt so much? Why do I feel my soul chip away at every negative thing I hear?

I hope others don't feel the way I do. It's like I'm a numb, empty void, but full of pain and hurt all at the same time.

Physically, I can feel the bile rise to my throat and my head pound. I can't take this anymore. I'm not strong. I'm just an idiot who should have never been born.

Tears stream down my face as I write these confessions that should never be heard or seen. Perhaps I'll look back on this and laugh later. I can't really call it mental abuse. I doubt many people would say it was. Ha. They would probably agree with her.

It's just so weird. One second, she'll be all friendly and the next she'll be jumping down my throat. My body tense up as I wait for the sound of my failure to be voiced by the words she speaks. It's a never-ending cycle.

How do I tell her I'll never be what she wants me to be? How will I tell everyone that I can't be the person they envisioned? That I have no potential? That I'm a loser?

Or do they already know that? And that is why they say things to me?

I feel incredibly lame and disappointed with the person I am and for writing this out. People are going to laugh at me and call me a crybaby if they ever see this.

After she's done saying her words to me I go to my room, shut the door, and lean against it. I close my eyes and think about whatever faults she had listed. I forget about all the good things I've ever been told and wonder if I'm good enough to ever exist on Earth.

No, I guess I'm not.

I understand why cutters cut now.


Author's Note: This was supposed to be a diary entry. You really don't have to comment if you don't want to. Don't bother to offer constructive criticism because this piece isn't going to be rewritten. It's just something I had to write.

I sincerely hope no one has ever felt the way this piece describes. I promise I'm not a cutter if that is what you are thinking.

Thanks to destinee's notebook, Spirit Tigress, MyDashboardConfessional, nomadsland, Fearlessly, Dragon Soarer, North.River's.Muse, lonely silhouette, Elfin Flame, Stylo, pinkxbullets, found.eventually, Written, Adventure Getaway, Ramona122003, fatbird33, Katie Saychiadu, Hed in the Cloudz, ria nemikh, ItachiLover2, lost for words, ode to a nightingale, Masked Soul, Lurid Black, Lady of Secrets, freaky.little.devil, Tanya Rice, follow the night light, Dandelion Cupcakes (anon.), Xara Nahara O'Connor, kloun doll, Kirby Tails, Octello, Innocent Blood, Crying-Without-Tears, Laura Patricia, ichigo shortcake, simpleplan13, GN Perone, standing in the wreckage, Xenzaki, Hoodwynk, SirScott, caralita, Gemma Lovell, Kioasakka, High Sky, Always Pencil, kelsi bones, pinkcherry14, Iccle Fairy, and jason lee.