04July06 - 3:30AM"Roll 'em up."
"You know exactly what I mean. Now roll them up or I'll do it myself."
((She can see the tears welling in her mom's worried eyes...this happens everytime.))
She looks around the room; hoping for a distraction((the one that never comes)). Her mom stares knowingly at the long sleeve ((but it's Summer?)) she has fixed between her thumb and forfinger. ((Pinching so tightly, wishing that her mom would just give up.))
Tension. She's still waiting for her mom to leave the room. No matter how much her mom begs her, she'll never be able to reveal all those horrible reminders that shine across her once perfect skin.
Every line and ridge under her American Eagle flannel ((the one her mom bought for her)) screaming the same horror story.
It plays over
like the music she plays to drown out her sobs (("How did I become this?"))
the tears falling ((almost in rhythm to the music))
mixing with the crims
Directions to a HeartbreakThis is the way you should break my heart.Directions to a Heartbreak7 years ago in Teen More Like This
Firstly, you have to call me over the phone, since we're both too cowardly to see eachother's faces. Call on a weekend, perferably a Friday night so I can cope over the weekend and stay home that night to curl under the covers.
Tell me, "We had great times but-" then pause, and let me say "But what? Are you breaking up with me?" Say this, "No no no, I'm not...well...yes and no. I really like you but-" pause again because you don't know why you're doing this. "But what?" I will persist. "Is there someone else? Is it something I did? What?" Sense that I am growing angry, and imagine my face contorting to hold back tears. Decide I am ugly. Hate me for it. Do not say "It's not you, it's me." because that's cliche and you're original. Do not say it's someone else, because that will send me into a jealous rage, and you wouldn't want that. Do not tell me we're just too different, because I love you and despite my stubbornness, I would change for you.
06July06 - 3:00AM((This isn't a memory. It's just something really, really random. I really didn't stop and think about this at all. I just kept typing and this is what it turned out to be.))06July06 - 3:00AM8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"How does it feel?"
"How does what feel?"
"You know...dragging that blade across your skin. Does it make you feel alive; like you can breathe again? How many lines does it take until finally you're able to feel again? I remember that night it took 77...you could feel the first 30, but after that you couldn't feel a damn thing. You wanted to be scared, but it felt so fucking good. You knew that if you couldn't hurt yourself, no one else could. Tell me, does it bother you?"
"Does what bother me?"
"The scars. The stares. The questions. I mean, do they ever bring you down? Oh that's right. No one ever sees them. Tucked away under those long sleeves of yours. Doesn't it get hot? Doesn't anyone ever question that? Of course they do. It's fucking 90 degrees outside and you're in a button-up, long sleeved Abercromb