I don't really know what I'm writing all I know is that I am writing and that's a start, right?
Once upon a time, like how all fairy tales start, there was a girl. A happy little girl. Then that happy little girl grew up and she wasn't so happy any more. Many things went wrong and the girl found it hard to cope. She was at a dead end in life with no light sneaking in.
She began telling lies, not big ones but nevertheless lies. Her whole world was crashing down around her and she didn't know how to deal with it.
A razor became her best friend.
Unlike anyone else he never deserted her and always kissed her better when she was hurt. Deadly kisses, they were addicting.
Life became sweeter and a whole lot darker.
The girl was at a loss. She didn't know what she was doing was wrong.
How can something feel so good, but be so wrong?
The girl started making excuses, pulling away from her friends, not working so hard at school.
No one could help her now, it was too late. Her life was no longer the perfect story every girl yearns for.
Instead it was along the lines of something the devil would enjoy.
Even when she pretended she was better, she knew she wasn't. She tried, but no matter how hard she tried, she never succeeded.
Happiness became a distant memory.
Now a teenager, the girl still wasn't her old self. She didn't see her old self coming back. The darkness had swallowed her whole and it didn't have intentions of spitting her out anytime soon. She lived through each day in a state of self-loathing and confusion. Hating everything about herself and confused as to why her?
This story doesn't have a happy ending, at least not yet anyway. One day I will be that girl again, one day I will be okay. Everyday I hope that day is today. I live in a world of today's with nothing ever changing.
I will get better, one day.