The Worst Enemy Of Them All

The place, where the strongest and most personal texts are published. When everything becomes overwhelming, and my fingers instinctly find their way across the keyboard, this is the final result. I dont expect you to get them - but if you do, atleast you now know, that your are not the only person in this world, feeling lost and alone.

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4. ∞

People don’t notice. She don’t know the exactly reason for their lack of awareness of her behaviour – the way she’s always covering up her arms, which is covered in the most horrifying scars. The way she politely says no, when someone asks her, if she has been eaten, but yet, they do nothing about it.

They’ll just nod, smile, maybe give her a tiny pad on the back, just to show her their support. Or at least they’ll pretend to support her. They don’t notice anything. If she went to school, only wearing her P-jay and a pair of slippers, they wouldn’t notice. They would stare for a second, but then just turn the other cheek and pretend like nothing.

Maybe she could even… end it all. Do an end to all of the horror, the long missing attention, which she desperately craves.

“Want a spliff?” swiftly she turns her head to the older boy sitting next to her on the red leather couch. She smiles, nods and receives the joint from the boy. While inhaling the thick smoke of the drug, she stares intensely at him – he seems like a nice guy. Maybe someone, who would actually give a fuck about her and her problems.

“Thanks,” her voice is raspy, as she gives the boy his drug back. His hair is as brown as hazelnuts, matching the beautiful eyes of his; witch is staring directly into the girls. For a moment she senses something – like the air around them is filled with electricity, and there is no one else in the room, expect from the two of them.

But as quickly as that feeling came, as quickly it’s gone again. The brown-haired boy moves his gaze from hers, but as much as she wants to, she can’t do the same. It’s like she’s feeling drawn to him, his wonderful looks and his amazing eyes.

“I’m sorry, can I have another one?” she asks carefully and nods against the drug in his hand. He turns his head slowly, and once again she gets that feeling. Like her heads starts spinning, she loses her breath and she feels the blush in her cheeks.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” he mumbles and hands her the joint. She smiles and brings the drug to her lips, inhaling, exhaling and then returning it. She’s never done stuff like that before – drugs.

But soon, she’ll find a rare feeling, deep down in her abdomen. It feels like a humming, but not in an uncomfortable way. It starts tickling in her fingers, her toes, and the dizziness is unbelievable. She is feeling comfortable, with a carrying boy by her side and the loud bass playing from the speakers.

For a second – just for a single second, there’s not a thing in the world she cares about. Everything is floating together, her vision gets blurry, but she doesn’t mind. She likes it. It’s nice being free from all the troubles.

All the things that have been happening over the past few months disappear. The bullies are gone. Her mum, who is having an affair with their neighbour, is gone. The shitty grades, the crappy body, and the way she feels after she’d been cutting – it’s all gone. 

But as every lovely feeling in the world, she has to let this one go. So she does, she lets it drift away form her, but not for long. She craves the heartless and insensible feeling, and she’s desperately trying to find it again.

Little does she knows that’s she only ruining herself even more. Her lack of appetite causes her not to eat, and when she doesn’t eat, she feels bad. And when she feels bad, she cut, which would help for a short amount of time. But when that time is up, the bad feeling will come back, and that’s when all of the alcoholic drinks and the drugs enter.

It’s like a bad circle, but in a nice way. She just wants to be alone, but she wants friends. She want a nice, warm, snugly hug, but she is pushing everyone around her away. She doesn’t want people to know about her problem, but yet she wants someone to care about her. She can’t really describe what it feels like, and she doesn’t want to either.

The “carrying” boy soon disappears from her, just like the rest of her friends. In one way, she’s glad she’s rid of him – he could be a pain in the arse, always telling her how to quit the booze, the cutting and the self-criticisms. But now that he’s gone, maybe she’ll miss him.

She shakes her head. She will not allow that to happen, not in a million years. There is only one thing currently in her head: She just wants to figure out, who she really is. It’s a big question, it indeed is, but is it that much to ask for? Is it?

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