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SCARS

SCARS

By Shaxee in 16 Aug 2016 | 18:26
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Shaxee Shaxee

Shaxee Shaxee

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My Mom used to say life is about the experience; and that it’s important to live it, before you can question it. That’s the problem with my mind: my level of curiosity is outrageous.
For me, cutting wasn’t anything anyone was supposed to know about. It was supposed to be private, a prospect that had already been eliminated to the fact of knowledge. That I knew this was a battle fought single-handedly between my conscience and I.
And from what I’ve learned, wrists are the hardest to cover for; to hide. However, I can’t bring myself to cut myself anywhere else. I feel like my wrist is where I want to keep it, I don’t want change.
The only person who’s ever known about my cutting, was my ‘friend’ Lin. She came from the outskirts of town, her mother a drug addict and growing up in an environment where it was every individual for themselves. Therefore, because she used to cut, she knows the exact behavior that comes around.
Upon seeing her, after I had attempted to avoid her all summer, she had demanded I show her my wrists. There I was- in an awkward position, which I never wanted to be in in the first place.
Ever since I was a child, I had always been afraid of veins. The sight of blood, it caused me to feel nausea and dizziness. But when I had finally had enough… When I had lost a battle with myself, I grabbed my razor in the midst of night and sliced my wrist. Not on the bottom of my wrist, covered with veins. The first place I actually cut was on the top of my wrist.
Lin grabbed my arm and ripped my bracelets off to see the cuts I had inflicted upon myself. She hadn’t reacted like I expected, perhaps I had been anticipating her to tell. To scream, yell, or even humiliate me for something in return. But the first thing she said to me upon finding out, the first thing that crossed her mind…
“You cut on the wrong side, Skye!” And then she laughed at me. Called me out in stupidity, for not cutting upon the underside of my wrist?
Tell me if I’m wrong- but something seemed off about that, instead of yelling at me… Or telling me how disappointed she was in me, she simply suggested I do it differently. She let me be, and told me I had harmed myself incorrectly.
What she didn’t know, was that the only reason I wasn’t slicing on the underside of my wrist was because I was afraid of cutting too deeply to a point beyond repair; my Mom is a doctor, and I visit the hospital often. So god knows what her reaction would be if I accidently cut a vein one day, and had to go to the hospital because I passed out instead of dying.
As much as I wanted to die, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet. The way I think of life, differently than my Mom, is that everything is already planned out. Simply, we’re all just here. I figure, that if I’m going to die already since the rest of the world is as well, then what’s the loss in staying here?
Why would I end it early, if my death is already planned out for me in the end? Instead, I promise myself that I’ll just wait until then. Perhaps it sounds suicidal, and it does entirely. But the point is, that mere thought is what keeps me here.
My mind gives me two options- knowing that I will die eventually, it doesn’t have to be self-caused. I can just wait for it to happen when the world has finally had enough of me.
There.
I think I’ve gotten my point across.
My name is Skye and I’m your typical depressed teenage girl. I live in a small town that most likely isn’t located on your map, in the middle of nowhere. I live with my Mom, and step-douche… Er,
step-dad , and little sister Maggie.
My biological dad left me when I was very young, three maybe. My Mom never speaks of him. Maggie’s dad was just another one night stand type of guy, but Walt, our step-dad and my Mom both lie to Maggie and tell her that Walt is her biological father.
I’ve known Walt for three years; my Mom met him when he got into a car accident in the hospital. He was her patient. Maggie met him when she was only two, but can’t remember it. As far as she knows, the five year old has known Walt all her life.
And since that faithful day, Walt and my Mom have been married ‘happily ever after.’
Did they even think twice about their fourteen year old ‘daughter?’
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First chapter, lovelies! I just want to say, thank you so much for reading, and if you ever need anything please don't hesitate to reach out to me. I am here for you if you want to talk, DM/COMMENT BELOW...
16 Aug 2016 | 18:26
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“Skye, get up or you’ll be late!” Walt yelled from out in the hallway, and I groaned as glanced at my clock. 7:03am . Ugh. I hate Mondays, they are the worst. Somehow, my eyes snapped shut to ignore the peeps of sunlight beaming through my windows. And I had gotten lost in another trance of sleep. ~Seventeen minutes later…~ “SKYE GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED NOW, YOU’RE GONNA BE LATE!” My mother barged into my room, pulling the old comforter from my body as I scrambled in confusion to the sudden action. “Sorry,” I grumbled in annoyance, “Do I have to go to school today?” My Mom rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly trying to keep herself calm, “Yes. Now get up, Walt is going to drive you.” Hearing that made me spring up from my sleeping position and slam open my closet in hurry. “Nope! There is no way- I’m biking!” I scrambled to pull on an ‘Asking Alexandria’ black t-shirt snugly over my pale dangly body, jumping into some dark red skinnies. My Mom groaned and exited the room. She still wasn’t pleased that I had avoided interaction with Walt. It’s not like it was my fault he was a dick. Not even a minute later, I was looping a studded belt through my buckles whilst turning on my ‘morning playlist’ using my toes. Any other normal person would’ve laughed at me, but hey, music is important! Better off Dead by Sleeping with Sirens came on, and I began to belt the lyrics ignoring the yells from my Mom whom despised the music. Walt knew not to mess with me and my music, otherwise we would get in a big argument… “How come no one heard her when she said,” I sang, dancing around like an idiot while jumping into my combat boots and brushing out my short and crazed dark-blue hair. “Maybe I’m better off dead! If I was, would it finally be enough! Shut out all those voices in my head! Maybe I’m better off dead! Better off dead, did you hear a word- hear a word I said, this is not where I belong! You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone…” Quickly, I grabbed my eyeliner I had purchased for $2.78 at the Quickee-Mart down the block, and applied it darkly as I peered at myself through my small hand mirror. I sighed loudly as I was once again displeased with my appearance, as blemishes covered my pale skin. Hazel eyes stared back at me- staring at this person that was almost unrecognizable compared to her six-year-old-self photo taken in kindergarten. Sleeping with Sirens faded, as the next song came on. I recognized it as ‘I don’t wanna be in love’ by Good Charlotte. Picking up my bracelets, all advertising my favorite bands like Sleeping with Sirens, Asking Alexandria, Pierce the Veil, Suicide Silence, Escape the Fate, Good Charlotte, Of Mice and Men, Nirvana, Green Day and Panic at the Disco. Bring Me the Horizon, and Twenty One Pilots are especially some favorites of mine as well, and I have to admit that I do have a soft spot for Alesana, Three Days Grace, My Chemical Romance, The All-American-Rejects, and Black Veil Brides. (DOWN THE LIST LOL! Comment if you recognize this feeling… I was shocked to see how many songs I had downloaded…) Snorting as I thought over all of my favorite bands, there was such a long list… It’d be hard to list all of them, as hard as you could try. Well… No wonder everyone in my High School called me an emo. I was, to be honest. Deep down, with my dark poetic lonely soul, I was an emo. But emo is short for emotional, and I couldn’t describe myself any better. My heart ached in guilt as I glanced at the scars covering my wrists; cuts, some of them fresh, others scars that had failed to heal over without leaving behind a mark. If my Mom knew… I’d end up in a mental institution for sure. Quickly I covered them up as best I could with my bracelets, wincing slightly as the rubber came in contact with a fresh cut. Grabbing my black backpack, I unplugged my music device. (A kindle instead of an iPod because my Mom refused to buy me one…) And grabbed my earbuds continuing to blast the music in my ears as I tucked my kindle in my bag, one earbud in my ear and the other dangling free. After brushing my teeth, I headed downstairs and glanced at the time to see that I had ten minutes to get to school. If I was going to make it on time, I’d have to leave now. “Bye Mom, bye Walt, bye Maggie! I’m heading to school!” I yelled, clomping down the stairs and out the door, grabbing my black helmet I had spray-painted in graffiti, and hopping on my matching bike as I raced to school. I got there right as the bell rang, and I parked my bike and jumped off unplugging my headphones and tucking them in my bag as I bolted to enter the school building and get to my locker. But like most things, I wasn’t fast enough. I hadn’t planned for it to go this far. In fact, I hadn’t planned for any of this at all. They say the best people endure the most pain, and sadly the pain destroys some of the best people. It seems only right for the engagement to be reversed… Right? Heh, not quite. Just the opposite, actually. “Skye! Where’s the clouds?” Veronica joked, knowing that I couldn’t stand up for myself. She and her little ‘minions’ all hated me without a doubt. I didn’t respond, which made her angry. It was difficult to ignore Veronica, but like my second nature it wasn’t that hard to disappear from this world and originate to a land of my own mind’s creation. I steadied my feet carefully as I continued walking faster, trying to get to my locker before classes started. “What the actual fuck! Don’t ignore me, bitch!” Veronica yelled; her curly black hair bouncing with each word. Her intense blue eyes staring me down. “What do you want….?” I groaned, reaching for my kindle which had fallen out and shoving it back in my bag, lugging myself back up. Veronica rolled her eyes in annoyance. “What do I want?! You’ve practically ignored me all summer! And- and now you come back, look at you! Blue hair… Emo music? You’re a disgrace!” Veronica was right, I had changed. Prior to the summer, I had long yellow-blonde hair; exceedingly normal clothes, and listened to relevant pop culture. Little did anyone know that the me from last year was faking a smile, all god damn minute and every waking hour I spent pondering my death? Veronica gestured to the bracelets that ran all up along my right arm, “Oh, and are those the bracelets that you use to cover up your cuts? ” She mocked- little did she know she was actually right. “Pathetic.” She spat, “And I actually thought you were my friend you piece of shit attention whore!” Tears burned in my eyes, as I gripped my bag tighter in my pale and cold palms. Veronica turned around prepared to storm off, as she was ditching off in the opposite direction she yelled over her shoulder, “Go cut a little deeper, freak!” Well… Maybe I would be one friend short this year. Like Lin, Veronica had been one of the ‘friends’ that I had lost due to the lack of communication over the summer. But that was only because Veronica doesn’t like who I am, and I knew that once she found out who I really was on the inside, she would react just like she did. It was two weeks into the new school year, and still I had struggled to find my way here. This was my first year of high school, so of matter of speaking, it was even harder to be an emo freshman. And apparently at this high school, they weren’t treated very nicely. Gradually, I had made it to my locker; and quickly fled to class. Later that day was when I would first see him. ----------------------------------------------------
17 Aug 2016 | 15:13
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Today, I was getting reassigned a new room, near the other patients as I was now ready to interact. The first week, always being a time to settle. Remember when you were told that, “if you believe in something so much, it might happen?” If that’s true, I’m sure my life would be much better than it is right now. And still this constant comparison continues in my mind. Will I ever be good enough? Why was I born to be who I am? How can they be so mean? Trust me; I’ve held so much hope and belief for the future… And still nothing has happened. And it’s from here on out that I drown in my own insecurities: I don’t really care what anyone will think of me… I just want them to know who the fuck I am. “Skye?” The nurse asked, opening the door as I grabbed my bag and stood before her. “You’re being reassigned to the treatment center, you’ll be with other patients.” I nodded, “Follow me.” She said, as I followed her out the door. This was the first time I had left that room in a week, so I was sure to absorb all of my surroundings. The nurse noted that, laughing as she continued along her way. “So this area has more independence than the last one, you will be allowed to wonder as you wish; however, you are to attend support group therapy which takes place three times a day after breakfast, lunch and dinner which you also must attend. There may also be corresponding events throughout the day, but will be announced an hour before the actual event. The first support group gathering is in about ten minutes, so hurry along and change and then go see Dr. Richmond. He’s down the hall, take a right, down the hall again, second door to your left.” She stopped at my room, which was across another door, however that door was closed; mine was open… The nurse caught me eyeing the other door in wonder, when she spoke, “Three patients are on this hall. One resides across from you, one is next door to you,” I glanced over at the door next to mine noting that there was another patient there. “And then of course, there is you. Everyone is really welcoming, and feel free to find me if you need any help settling in.” I nodded, “Thank you.” And then, I disappeared into my room. ---------------- Sorry it's so short, didn't really feel like updating today....
18 Aug 2016 | 09:05
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