Knocking my head against the wall, my tears are still falling. How could I be so naive as to think I might be better? Would I ever be? The darkness had fallen around me like snow falling treacherously over an icy road, hiding the danger within. I looked to my window sill catching a glimpse in the dim light of the flowers, long dead. A petal fell from one, floating calmly to join the others around the vase. I closed my eyes tightly once more, trying to somehow force every thought out of me head, but with no success. Pushing my knees to my chest, I rocked myself back and forward, crying softly. My stomach pained me, like someone throwing a knife through my gut and out of my back. I wiped my eyes, turning the light on. I immediately closed my eyes once more, feeling the pain of the sudden brightness after what seemed like years drowned in darkness. I immediately pulled my drawer open, carefully taking out the box. That familiar box. I opened it, my heart beating faster now as I foresaw my own actions. I over turned the box, letting the contents fall into my palm. The glass glinted in the light. Like me, it was broken. Three small pieces of what used to be a mirror. I remember it so clearly, the day I broke it. It used to torment me. I remember throwing my fist hard into the glass so that it came shattering, shards going through the skin on my knuckles, and some falling around my feet. It didn't make a difference. Even in broken glass, you can see yourself. You may look a little deformed, but it's still you. Remembering this made my stomach lurch and I seized the broken glass firmly, slashing it deeply into my lower wrist, wincing and clenching my teeth. The pain was my only option. Laying down the glass, that sick bitter feeling came over me once more. Relief soaked in guilt and disgust. In all my self pity I didn't notice the blood was pouring out onto me. Feeling it on suddenly, I looked down in panic. I was used to the blood by now, but this was different. There was a mass of glistening red liquid heaving out of my arm. My heartbeat quickened until I couldn't breathe it was beating so fast. I gasped for air, trying to push past the lump in my throat, but it only made it worse. I grabbed anything, pressing it to my arm, trying to apply pressure, only I was shaking too much to do it properly. That night I convinced my that I was going to die. It may seem dramatic but at the time, it just made sense. Sometimes our worst experiences have a way of showing us the importance in our life's, the things that really matter, but most of all, the things that don't.
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