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Interior Monologue.

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Interior Monologue I can't believe it's happened again, I'm back to square one. I promised myself I would do this, and yet here I am, my arm is covered in blood. I don't feel any pain just a sigh of relief as if all my stress has flown out of me. I've just come back from my end of year prom, I hate that word 'prom', it means socialising, telling people how you are and asking them. Believe me I didn't want to go but my Mum forced me, she said "It would be nice to get and see your friends." Friends? What friends? I don't have friends. Unless friends mean people who throw stones or wet toilet paper at you, pull your hair or call you names then I've got loads! Yeah I know what your thinking, "she's 16! She should be able to stick up for herself!" But it's hard you know, anyway I've found a better way of dealing with it, I have to hide any marks though, that's hard too. Normally I just wear long sleeved jackets or jumpers, in fact I live in them. ...read more.


It had a picture that meant something to me, more than anything. I was so angry that day, I threw all my cds across the room, but that wasn't enough I was still fuming! So I turned the TV on, and began scratching an itch on my arm, I started digging my nails in really deep, so deep it stared to bleed. That was the start of my obsession. It made me feel better, and as I cleaned my cut it felt good, almost like it was soothing me. At first I just used my nails, to make myself bleed, but I decided it wasn't enough, I needed deeper cuts to let out my stress. So when my parents where in the lining room I went downstairs and stole a knife, a knife that was sharp enough to heal my depression. But it didn't heal it, it just got worse. Now its just a normal routine. Whenever something bad happens, I run in my bedroom, grab my knife that is hidden in the box under my bed, role up my sleeve, cut my arm, and then just sit and watch it bleed. ...read more.


Ran into my bedroom, slammed the door, opened the box from under my bed, you can guess what I did next, you know the normal routine. I felt relieved, so relieved that I forgot about my puppy. I was shocked to see that she was still there where I left her, those big brown eyes just looked at me. For some reason I felt guilty. I picked her up and went downstairs, instead of blaming myself I blamed my mother, she was trying to scrub the ink stains off the carpet. She told me that I needed to go out and buy all the things I needed for my puppy. I was angry, that's not my job! She said that she was my responsibility and under not circumstances must I abandon her. I screamed back and told her I had enough to think about, never mind a stupid dog! And for the third time today I ran upstairs in my room, but this time I didn't reach for the box under my bed, I just sat and thought. Maybe it was my fault, she is my dog, my responsibility. My Mum was harsh on me thought, how does she expect me to train this puppy, I have got school aswell. ...read more.

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