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Olive branch · 09-05-2009, 02:22 PM

It is sixteen minutes to ten. I am twelve years old. I hate myself, I really hate myself. I am so just, oh ****. I have never been so stupid in the whole of my life. Why the hell did I even think that? I was at a party- the whole year was there and I just. I tried to kiss him, just to touch him. Just like everyone else has. I know he didn’t want me, I’m not that stupid. I just wanted to feel alive; I just wanted to feel needed for a change. Someone please just like me, just RESPECT me. I don’t want pity, I don’t want love. I am not prepared to beg for you to bear me I just need something.
Suddenly my mind clears. It’s something I promised myself I would never do after that first time. But you have to try something more than once before you say that you don’t like it; don’t you? I scrabble through my box of toiletries, past the boxes of lip-gloss and the shower gel that I have been given for endless birthdays and Christmases. Eventually my fingers find the plastic bag which contains 5 razors- twin bladed. Mum gave them to me a few weeks ago but I didn’t know quite what to do with them so I figured I’d wait for a bit. I know what to do with them now. I grab either side of the packaging and pull it open, like a bag of crisps. The razors fall into my lap, like the oddest form of rain.
I fight with the plastic casing, eventually scissors, tweezers and pure determination find their way and the blades fall from their housing. I wouldn’t have thought that they would be so thin and light. I could probably snap it. I look at my hard fought for treasure and sigh. I don’t think I have it in me to actually cut myself. It’s gross to imagine the blood on the outside, to actually have to cause yourself to bleed. I think I’m still too afraid. I pick up the razor blades in on hand and go to place them into a tiny makeup box.
I glance at my hand; a thin line of blood is creeping down towards my wrist. I turn my hand over and I notice that I nicked my thumb with a blade whilst attempting to get them out of the plastic. I look in amazement at the blood and after a moment I am myself again.
The second, the deliberate cut, I feel. It feels good.

09-05-2009, 02:22 PM	#58
Olive branch Join Date: Apr 2009 Location: UK	It is sixteen minutes to ten. I am twelve years old. I hate myself, I really hate myself. I am so just, oh ***. I have never been so stupid in the whole of my life. Why the hell did I even think that? I was at a party- the whole year was there and I just. I tried to kiss him, just to touch him. Just like everyone else has. I know he didn’t want me, I’m not that stupid. I just wanted to feel alive; I just wanted to feel needed for a change. Someone please just like me, just RESPECT me. I don’t want pity, I don’t want love. I am not prepared to beg for you to bear me I just need something. Suddenly my mind clears. It’s something I promised myself I would never do after that first time. But you have to try something more than once before you say that you don’t like it; don’t you? I scrabble through my box of toiletries, past the boxes of lip-gloss and the shower gel that I have been given for endless birthdays and Christmases. Eventually my fingers find the plastic bag which contains 5 razors- twin bladed. Mum gave them to me a few weeks ago but I didn’t know quite what to do with them so I figured I’d wait for a bit. I know what to do with them now. I grab either side of the packaging and pull it open, like a bag of crisps. The razors fall into my lap, like the oddest form of rain. I fight with the plastic casing, eventually scissors, tweezers and pure determination find their way and the blades fall from their housing. I wouldn’t have thought that they would be so thin and light. I could probably snap it. I look at my hard fought for treasure and sigh. I don’t think I have it in me to actually cut myself. It’s gross to imagine the blood on the outside, to actually have to cause yourself to bleed. I think I’m still too afraid. I pick up the razor blades in on hand and go to place them into a tiny makeup box. I glance at my hand; a thin line of blood is creeping down towards my wrist. I turn my hand over and I notice that I nicked my thumb with a blade whilst attempting to get them out of the plastic. I look in amazement at the blood and after a moment I am myself again. The second, the deliberate cut, I feel. It feels good. Last edited by Olive branch : 09-05-2009 at 04:30 PM.*
Olive branch Join Date: Apr 2009 Location: UK	System A Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA *Tracey Bridget* *My Isaac* System B Tabitha, ?,Robert, Pippa, Sarah? "Don't touch me."