"I don't find a point in living anymore. It's not like anyone likes me or cares for me. I am alone with no where to go. And yet I am scared to leave this world. If anything, I want a reason to live."
After the meeting with the devil in my head, I began to look deeper into the world. I thought more and more about life. I wonder if there was any point of living anymore.
I am still in eighth grade. I was still in that horrible private school. And I can't take it anymore.
Night after night, tears would roll down my face. I would muffle my cries with a blanket so my parents wouldn't hear. I would scream in my head and ask the most rediculous questions.
And then came the day in which I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't bare to keep on living. I started with my nails. I dug them deep into my skin. The surface layer came apart and then there was an indent left when I took my fingers away.
Next came a knife. I was scared. I hesitated so many times. In the end though, I gave up and sliced myself in the arm a few times. I felt relieved in a way, and yet so emo. I cried as I watched the blood drip down my skin. However, I still bothered to wipe it dry and bandage it. Didn't I want to die?
When I was in the shower I couldn't help but tear at my skin. Bruises began to form and scratches could be seen everywhere.
Still I wouldn't be satisfied. I didn't have a clear determination to die. I still had hope to cling to. I still believed that I had a reason to live.
All you have to do is find it...