[<Whispered Death Threats>]

So everyone tells me I have this talent for writing, that it’s so amazing and I have a real art for creating amazing situations. Making them feel like they’re actually having these problems.
When’s the last time someone stepped back and asked, how does this girl. Age fourteen. Know about this. How does this girl know what it’s like to be hated so much that she’s forced to draw her mind upon her wrist? No one stops to ask how I know these things.
So maybe next time someone reads my writing and says, “Oh wow! That’s amazing Kym!” they’ll pause and say, wait, how does she know this. How does she know what it’s like to love with her whole heart and have it beaten abused and thrown back in her face.
So the next time you read my writing. Take a moment and think. How does she know this? And maybe, just maybe, you won’t accuse me any more. You won’t judge me. You won’t walk on the other side of the road to avoid a creep like me. Maybe you won’t call me a monster. But those are all just maybes. There’s also the maybe of you’ll just continue on with your lives. And leave me to mine. And I can learn to live with what’s true. You can burry your heads in the sand, pretend worlds like mine don’t exist. But me, I’ll always know.

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My hands shook as I picked up the phone and dialed the number. I waited each buzz of the phone ring tugging like an iron weight on my heartstrings. Finally he picked up.
         “Hey babe!” he said, his voice. The weight of the world disappeared off my shoulders and a smile broke out across my face.
         “Hey” I answered with a sigh of relief.
         “You okay? You sound stressed”
         “Me, stressed, no way!” I joked laughing at how soothing his voice was.
         “What’s up?” he asked, his voice genuinely concerned.
         “Nothing, I’m fine” I answered throwing up defenses in place of the truth
         “Kym.” He said, his voice taking cautious tones.
         “I” I started “I can’t, I can’t do this again!” I said, my voice cracking and tears rolling down my cheeks
         “It’s okay” he said, his voice soothing.
         “No it’s not!” I practically screamed “My best friend just called me, she’s in the hospital having her stomach pumped; she tried to O.D on drugs again. My own brother is in the hospital with a seizure that doesn’t have an explanation. Drayen called, he’s in the hospital for ripping stitches out of his head. Luis is in prison for beating up Joey. Speaking of Joey, he’s out to kill me again because he just wants someone to injure. I have a shit load of homework, this kid wants me to trust him and I can’t even give him the time of day because something inside of me is screaming to run. I can’t breathe and I have guard tomorrow, I also have a project and all this othe-”
         “Take a deep breath” he stopped me, I paused and tried to breathe.
         “Good, now listen to me. I care, so it doesn’t matter that all this shit is happening, Joey’s not going to hurt you, Luis has been to jail before. None of this is your fault, let it go”
         “I CANT!!” I yelled “DON’T YOU SEE!! This is my fault! Its all my fault, Luis wouldn’t have beaten up Joey if it wasn’t for me. Fhey wouldn’t be having her stomach pumped if I had just listened, Drayen would still be here if hadn’t been so stupid!” I tried to explain, tears still burning down my face.
         “KYM! It’s not your fault, I’m sorry but you didn’t do this! You didn’t ask for your life to be this fucked up! you didn’t ask for your friends to try and kill themselves you didn’t ask for it! So stop blaming yourself! Let it go!” he yelled.
         “I CANT! That’s not what I do!”
         “I’m ASKING YOU TO!” he yelled back. Silence instilled itself like a rubber stopper.
                   ~~In a place where we only say goodbye~~ D.C
         Tears rolled down my cheeks in fresh waves. I couldn’t help it, all this was my fault, why couldn’t people see that? Everything that had gone wrong, everything. I was hooked to it somehow. I was the reason.
         “Kym, I know what your thinking about and don’t you dare touch that knife” he said “Don’t make me regret giving it to you” his voice wavered for a moment
         “But, don’t you see?” I asked fingering the knife gently “It would all be better without me, it really would” I said turning it over and over in my hand.          
         “No! it wouldn’t, don’t you see Kym, Luis is in jail because he CARED. Fhey’s in the hospital because of her mother, not because of you. Joey’s a bastard and you should have ditched him long ago. Your brother had a seizure, he’s 1,000 miles away, there’s nothing you could have done! It’s not your fault. And with out you, I don’t exist. Don’t do this to me. Please, I need you” his voice was no longer strong and current but weak and wavered with tears. My own tears splashed on to the perfect reflection of my knife.
         “Please” was all he said. Silence stretched long across the phone lines. I couldn’t say anything, staring at my swirling reflection and trying not to act on impulse.
         “I promised. You need some sleep, sleep well”          
         “okay, if you say your going to be fine, I trust you” he said.
         “Goodnight”          
         “Night”
         I started to close the phone, looking at it and wondering if I was doing the right thing. Did he need to talk? What had I done, what if he had needed to share something. I couldn’t fight off the new wave of tears as I placed my head gently on my pillow and let my sobs roll me into sleep. Dreams didn’t come. I just succumbed to the dark abyss of my soul.
___________________________________________________________________

Now in Vivid Colour

Noise swirled around me in blinding colour. Blue for the chronically depressed, red for the infuriated. My own voice came in an explosion of purple. Words trained to slice people open with their harsh realities. My words are paper tigers, determined to silence those who don’t listen, those who dare say I deceive them.
         I needed help, everyone in school knew it, and it was my own stubborn decision to ignore those who reached out. I didn’t want help; it wasn’t what I was used to. I was used to being an individual, the excess .01% being an outlier. It’s what I lived for. To be as far from the mainstream. Did I need help? Would I ever get help? Enough people offered it, why couldn’t I take it? My own stubborn self. My own self demise. My own time-bomb waiting to detonate and explode. Destroying myself, those I loved, those who cared. I always said the world would be better without me. Less forest fires. Did I believe that now? I knew there was someone out there who needed me. Someone who cared if they could hold me the next morning. But why didn’t that stop the blade drawing my words in red down my wrists. Why didn’t that stop my blue words escaping in tears down my cheeks? My blue words mixing with the red ones of my wrist forming a purple explosion.




I swear I'm not emo, Just a stressful weekend!