Could you handle my pain?

I’m stuck at a crossroad not knowing which one to choose. I’m living my truth, but everyone thinks I’m lying, and I don’t know what to do except ignore it. I’ve tried to choose my road to pick, but every time I did, I would still get this feeling of regret running through my veins. I’m caught in the middle and its being heavy on my heart, I know when I’m heavily broken and all I’m seeing are glass pieces full of blood as I lay on the floor staring up at the broken roof. I keep wondering why? why does thins happen to me? Why can’t I stop the pain of blood gushing through my arms.

Now all I feel is the pain and all I see is red everywhere. I threw the plate, I threw glasses and I took the knife to my arms slicing every space on my skin until it was cover in blood. There it goes one cut, two cuts, blood starts gushing out. Three cuts, four cuts and five cuts they turn into wounds. Then moves on to the other arm, five more cuts both arms are wounded, with blood and glass everywhere while I’m laying on the floor.

Half dead I stare into the clouds watching every happy moment pass me by. I get up even thought filled with blood gushing out of my body, I tried to clean up the mess I made. I wrapped my arms in bandages, and left my wounds to heal. I never told anyone about it nor did anyone see it. Everyone thought I’m just miss goody-two shoes, but in reality they don’t really know what’s going on. No one knows that I live alone in this cold old dark house. I live, breathe, sleep and wake up in silence.

I keep the house all neat and tidy alone, and just act like I have people around, with music on. There would be days when I would watch recordings of my family, because I had missed the so much. It seemed like yesterday that we were having a family dinner at the table, when it really was a few weeks ago. People always wonder I have pictures of my family in my locker and ask why I start to tear up. I say its nothing really.

*This is not a real story.

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About imaginationdragonblog

Just a self-published struggling author.
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