the spark of cutting

{indent}Please note before reading this story this is the first thing I have ever tried to wright and I am dyslexic I am sure there are grammatical errors and pleas point them out but please be nice about it. thanks! I would also love to hear input on the story itself!

The spark of cutting

I stood in the faint fire light. The wind blew sparks as far as ten feet across the yard, luckily nothing caught fire. Everybody had left, aside from Nate who was crashed on the couch inside. I didn't know what to think of that night... though I never know what to think. All I do know is now that everyone was gone i felt more alone, but I always felt alone.
         I don't know when I started feeling like nobody was around even when they were. I suppose it was always that way. And I would make jokes to help me forget but sometimes nobody would laugh and I would realize that actually nobody was around. I never knew what it was like to have friends, real friends, but these people that were there an hour ago... I didn't know. Could I trust any of them... maybe one. Maybe.
         The thing with trusting people is it's hard to find someone who won't judge or won't lie. To trust someone is to let them hold you're most fragile of secrets. Some may say trust is a form of love which brings me back to my feelings of being alone. I don't love like most and when I say that I don't mean it feels different or something. I mean I don't love. I want to, it's just I don't. I don't even love my own parents. I hope one day I can find someone to love and trust but for now the only ones I love are my dogs, or my dog.
         Spirit was his name. My dog. We had put him down the day before and I missed him already he was the shoulder I could cry on. He was one of the few I could trust and he was dead. The pain of losing him was still fresh in my chest.

         When I returned to the house Addy, my other dog who I loved just as much as spirit, was curled up on the small couch while Nate was deep asleep on the other couch. Addy hadn't noticed that spirit was gone yet because my mom would take him on camping trips and leave me and her home alone a lot and she was out of town now. But I wanted to be with her so I grabbed spirits empty collar and curled up with Addy and drifted away to dreams I can never remember.
         As I woke up I noticed Nate was gone his mom probably picked him up earlier while I was still asleep I texted him to make sure. There was also a text waiting for me from Sam. Sam had a hard time in her past and last night she had a breakdown and the text was an apology but I didn't mind it was a comfort to know I wasn't the only one suffering. Besides it was 2 o'clock it the morning when everyone is that tired something is bound to happen.
         With all the willpower I could muster I got up and started cleaning. There was always a mess after word, and it's not like my mom didn't know I had people over. Well she didn't but she probably assumed because they came over almost every weekend and I'm not the type to throw wild parties or do drugs so she wasn't worried. I spent the rest of the day walking around and going wherever. I didn't know where I was walking I would just walk and this time I ended up at the little school house that isn't a school anymore but a historical site because it was an old building.

The next day school started and I didn't want to go. I didn't want more papers pressed in my face and wasted promises that they would help me do my work. What they didn't understand was that I couldn't do it. not that it was hard it's just when the pencil hits the paper and I start writing I don't know what I'm writing or how to write it or what I'm doing it never makes sense, never and they don't understand. All those times they have promised to not assign as much it's always too much. Always.
That night I was lying in bed and I looked over to my bed side table and saw the sewing needle I was using to learn how to learn how to sew. I picked up the needle and held out my left wrist I drug the pointy part down my wrist about an inch softly at first. Then a little harder I never drew blood but I wanted to. I went to bed that night feeling the pain in my scratched wrist reminding me that I'm still alive and maybe I can out live my loneliness. The next night I did the same but with a knife, and the next and the next. This went on for a week and a half. I never broke skin.
Somehow it thrilled me to feel the sharp pain on my wrist and the ach so long after. Maybe I started doing it just to feel something. Anything. I had gone so numb from the world. I think spirits death was the breaking point and it shattered me, the weight of school and my dyslexia plus the loneliness and topped off with my dogs death made me snap and the scratches on my wrist were only there to remind me that I was still alive. Still breathing. Still bleeding.

One Wednesday Jenney invited me to hang out until the rest of the group a got done with their play rehearsals. Then we would all go to our weekly outing where we would all watch a show and go hang out afterward. The two of us walked around the town while we waited. I hid the scratch marks on my wrist as if they were incriminating. I wanted to tell her, I wanted to trust her but she was in such a good mood I couldn't tell her not then and maybe not ever. But if I were to tell someone it would be her because maybe she would say the right thing or know how to help. But no not tonight she seemed so cheery I couldn't.