"You are an ugly, worthless, piece of nothing."
I closed my eyes and tried to fight it. The thoughts pouring into my head.
"No wonder those people at church treat you like a loser. Because you are one."
"No," my lips formed the word. "No."
"And don't even try and think you'll ever get a boyfriend. Those guys treat you like crap because it's exactly how an ugly freak like you needs to be treated."
Tearfully, I snatched my iPhone.
"Help me," I typed to Paul. "My depression is back again."
He responded immediately.
He begged me to see that it was all lies. That it was what other people were telling me, that it wasn't true.
I couldn't.
There had to be a way to get rid of this pain. Oh. This pain. It was pounding my head. I couldn't breathe.
"I want to cut," I typed, tears rolling down my cheeks.
"NO!!!!" was my answer. "DO NOT CUT YOURSELF EMILY.
DO YOU HEAR ME.
I SWEAR IF YOU DO...
KKHDDYKBVZSRJKKYX"
"I know.
I promised you I wouldn't remember."
But at that moment...
Something snapped.
"Do it." my thoughts urged. "Just a light scratch. Oh just once. Just to see what it feels like.
So I did.
One scratch.
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@blingey123
Writing is my life. Forever. I want to be an author when I grow up. I write all the time. When I'm happy, sad, angry...it's an escape. Oh, and I love green hearts. I absolutely love them.
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