Nothing.

Nothing; a short story about heart break, tears and self harm. Based on something that happened to a friend of mine in his life, I borrowed the story.

"It's funny because you never meant anything to me."

I read the text over and over, each time my heart breaks more then the time before. Each time the pain threatens to overwhelm me and make me do something stupid; like what, I don't know. My breathing becomes restricted and my eyes water, I know I'm about to cry. Please, not here. Please?

"It's funny because you never meant anything to me." 

I know this is self torture. I know I should be getting over her. I drop the poisoned phone on my lap and trace my cheeks, my hands come away wet. These tears are for me and me alone. I put the phone in my pocket and stand up, the living room was too public to cry in; anyone could walk in. 

"It's funny because you never meant anything to me."
So, what was I? A sucker to spend money on you? A quick f**k to satisfy your lust? A taxi to and from your friends houses? Someone to spend those cold and lonely nights with, someone to fake a relationship with? Pray, tell me what I was to you. I want to know, despite the pain. I want to know who I was to the girl that was my entire world.

"It's funny because you never meant anything to me."

The tears are falling, freely, from my eyes and over my cheeks. I shut my bedroom door, the soft click of the lock falling into place echoes in my mind. I stumble to my bed, falling over as I try to climb into it. I throw the covers over my head and curl into the foetal position. 

"It's funny because you never meant anything to me." 

I was a nothing to her then... Nothing to this girl that I would've laid down my life for, I would've surrendered my walls and my heart. I would've let her become my reason for living. I would've been everything she wanted, but she didn't want me. The tears streaked down my face, wetting my bedsheets. As the heaving sobs racked my chest a single thought came to my mind; the razors. 

"It's funny because you never meant anything to me." 

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, looking at the screen through my tears. I drew the back of my hand across my eyes, my vision cleared a tiny bit. I sat up and chose [reply]. 

"You were my world. I'm sorry I wasn't enough for you."

Almost instantly I stood up and walked out of my room, to the bathroom. In the cupboard there was a small plastic box. Bandages and band-aids. I picked it up and walked back to my room, shutting the door again. I dropped to my knees in front of my bed and shoved my hand under it, searching for the small silver box that was underneath it. There it was, my hand wrapped around it and I pulled it out. The box was covered in dust, I opened the lid. Inside were my silver, glistening, razor blades. 

"It's funny because you never meant anything to me."

The words were imprinted in my mind, begging me to cause myself harm. I sat back, leaning against the wall, and bought one of the blades to my forearm. The silver razor slid effortlessly across my skin. The blood welled up, creating a long bubble of blood. The bubble burst and the crimson beauty fled down my wrist. 

"It's funny because you never meant anything to me."

So, I meant nothing. And if I meant nothing, that is what I am; nothing. The scars would remind me for months that I was "NOTHING".