Secret Shimmering Glass 3

I sigh as I unlock my door. I don’t want to be here. I never did. Not in this town, not in this state, not in this world. But self-pity gets me nowhere. And that’s alright. Because I’ve been on the road to nowhere all along. I walk around my room. My arm feels tingly. I look at the gauze keeping my arm from losing so much blood from all of those slits. It’s covered in blood. I add another layer on. I pass out on my floor.

I awake a few hours later. I remember nothing. There’s a dull throbbing in my arm. I remember. I glance at the clock. 2:23. I stare at my walls. I wonder how much blood I’ve lost. I arise, searching endlessly through the maze I call a room for more gauze to stop the excess bleeding. Maybe I’ll die. I get hopeful. I stop looking. I wait for Death. It never comes. I feel sad, so dissapointed.

My room is boring. I don’t like it in there. I arise and walk downstairs. The TV is blasting in the living room. I step in cautiously, so if anyone’s there they won’t hear me. The place is empty, just as I had suspected.

I turn off the TV. I leave the house. It’s cold. Colder than I would have thought. I would have thought an insulated underwear shirt and two sweaters would have helped. I was wrong. I shiver. I look at the ground as I walk. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t want to know. I walk across the town. I sigh. I stop at the bridge. I contemplate jumping off. Too many cars keep passing, even at three in the morning. I don’t jump, just sit. I sit with my legs dangling over the edge. I know how easy it would be to “slip”. I silently laugh. Silence is a killer in our family, and it consumes a great deal of me. It consumes my laughter, my secret, my fear. It consumes my soul, my heart, and what I used to know as Love. My heart has grown cold, my soul has been dead for a long time. I find no pleasure. Only in cutting. Ahh. I have the urge. I realize I can’t. I have no place left on me to cut. I have no glass, no knife, no shimmering blade that has caused me so much pleasure. Nothing. I look around the bridge. Looking for anything, a rock, piece of glass, something, anything. I find a rusted glass bottle. I don’t even think of the fact that it’s rusted and I could get something from it. I bust it against the bridge. Glass shatters. My eyes laugh and dance. Almost as if I’m watching a beautiful fire being lit and blown up in my face. I sit on the ledge of the bridge. I begin to cut my leg. Oh. Ohhh. The blood. That beautiful, succulent blood. Ohh. I sigh a happy sigh, one of the very few in my life. I stop, and walk back home. I dread home. I hate my family. I’ll laugh when they die. I open the door, and creep into my room. I pass out.

The morning comes. I moan, and my arm throbs with a deep intensity. I cry out in pain as I swing it around and accidently hit it against something. I remember. I get dressed, it’s 10:30. I wear a long sleeved shirt, and baggy pants. No one will know. My secret. My secret. The secret that divides me and the world. I walk downstairs to face the world again.