Well this is what I wrote for my english courswork and I wonder if anyone could give me some pointers or advice


So here I am alone again, crying, mascara rivers flooding down my face in black messy streaks. Wishing I wasn’t alive. I found myself in a gutter, needle in my hand. It didn’t do any good anymore. Even with my mind scrambled it didn’t take away the feeling of hate. If I had a fibre of confidence, courage, I would have managed to kill myself a long time ago. Now I was just killing myself slowly. Black eyes and scarred wrists had meant people branded me. Since I arrived here people would cross the road just so they didn’t have to be seen near the insane kid. The police knew me well. Today wouldn’t be the first or the last time I was going to stay at the station for the night. Too young to lock up, too old to be grounded. I was in that awkward phase where the fight of ownership begins. I am no longer completely my parent’s property, but I don’t yet belong to the government.

I am agreeably much better than I was when I first came here. When we arrived I didn’t look up into people’s eyes. I didn’t deserve contact with the world. After my mum forced me to come to Stonehaven High I met people who had taken it on themselves to try to rescue a tortured soul. I really have to hand it to them, they did an amazing job. I wasn’t a nut case anymore I was just considered an extreme emo, but I still had a long way to go.

Thankfully they stopped my self harming and theft to pay for drugs. Though even Janie, my chief saviour and best friend, still didn’t know how I became like this. How I slipped from a happy life, of pink dresses and Barbie dolls, into this small gutter somewhere in the bleak back alleys.

I didn’t do drugs anymore…

Well mostly I tried not to.

Except this time it wasn’t because of Janie’s efforts, but my careless nature had meant the police putting a small tracker into the sole of my favourite pair of Converses, had lead them straight to pretty much all the drug dealers in town. I still had a small stash however which I used in such emergencies. As I said it doesn’t have enough effect anymore but its still worth trying.

Mum will have called the police by now. She still doesn’t trust me, she is right not to.

She probably thinks I’m out with Lew. She doesn’t trust him either. I suppose it’s just her being the best mother she can be, to such an unpredictable loose child. I know it’s not easy on her knowing there’s nothing she can do. She’s been so happy recently. She was practically crying on the phone the other day, telling her old friend Maureen back in Knightsbridge, how I was finally getting better, letting go of the past. I was standing back pressed against the wall, trying not to breathe in case she heard me listening. I smiled. I was proud I ‘could’ make my mother happy. I hadn’t seen her truly happy for years. Why should she have been? Her closest friend had committed suicide and it was partly my fault. Her friend’s daughter was called Stephanie and she had been my best friend, we always swore we would be until death parted us. That’s exactly what happened.

Steph was insecure, I was one of the few people who had seen her without make up. She used feel she needed a boyfriend or she was alone in the world. She had a tendency to pick the popular boys who were good looking but moved onto the next girl before she could blink. As a result of this she always felt she wasn’t pretty enough, and like most naturally pretty girls she began to destroy herself by becoming bulimic. I had known she was, but she swore she had given that up. I knew she was lying. I knew. If I had said anything, I was afraid she would hate me. If I had stopped thinking of myself for once, she wouldn’t have died. Her mother wouldn’t have committed suicide. I wouldn’t be alone.

The End

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