The Little Drawings

Romalo is just a sixteen year old girl trying to fit in. She's abused daily by her own thoughts and emotions. The little drawings on her hand are the only things keeping her from continuing her horrible addiction.

Why are the drawings on her arms and wrists there? Will anyone ever understand?

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As usual I came home to an empty house. I lived with my mother in a small flat just outside London. It was small but cosy, just the way I liked it. 

 

I stormed through the door and screamed at myself. A silent scream, more like a cry for help. I started drawing more doodles on my wrists; butterflies, hearts, stars, animals and flowers. I drew anything that would make me feel like a horrible person if I killed them by cutting. But then I looked at myself in the mirror and caught a sight of myself. I was horrible!  

 

Just like that I felt so bad about myself and continued my horrible addiction. My mood could change so quickly it scared me so much. The pain seared up my left arm and I cried my eyes out. I didn't know how I could tell anyone I did this. I needed to tell someone. Most of all I needed help, I just didn't want to admit it. 

 

I had killed all my drawings for absolutely no gain. How was I supposed to go to the SkyLight concert with my arms like this?

I just couldn't do it anymore... 

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