May 16th 2014
I looked down at my wrists, and smile, at the warm red liquid running down my arm and into the cold bath water I was sat in. I don’t regret my decision. Even now as I drop the bloody blade into the water and anxiously wait for my happiness to come, after 4 years of waiting. I’m excited for my nervous wait to end. I’m longing for it to end. Longing for happiness to grab me by my lungs squeeze them tight and drag me towards it. Towards the darkness from which I will never return.
6 Months Earlier.
My name is Imogen. I’m fifteen years old and I want to die.
My life sucks. I’m invisible everywhere I go. Apart from home. But that’s the only place I actually want to go unnoticed. How much hate I have for my life is indescribable. No one knows my name at school even teachers ask me if I’m new. I tell them “No I’ve been here since year 7 like most of the other kids in my year.” They always reply with a shocked look and say “Oh yes I remember sorry ... err... uhm sorry what’s your name again I’m hopeless with these things hahaha”
Hahaha yeah very funny!! I’m laughing so much!! All the other kids in my school don’t know my name and to add the icing to the top of the cake neither do any of my teachers!! Aren’t I loved!!
It’s not just school life that’s hell, so is home. It’s not as bad as other peoples but it’s not the best either...
My mum and dad recently split up and their always arguing over who’s going to keep me. Where I’m going to live. I don’t like feeling like an inanimate object, you know. I have opinions and feelings but when it comes down to it they, don’t matter. I want to live with my mum because I just feel like we are closer and I can speak to her about more than I can my dad. But he wants to take me with him and live with his new girlfriend and himself. Haha yeah not going to happen!! It’s because of that wicked witch of the west that they’re splitting up anyway!! It’s half my dad’s fault as well but he’s my dad I can’t hate him. I can dislike him, yes. But hate him... I don’t think I could.
Her on the other hand, I would gladly hate her for the rest of my life!!
I don’t have any friends to talk to about it at all. I’m socially awkward and uptight so even if someone did want to be my friend I wouldn’t be able to let them in and if they defeated that obstacle, that wall that I build to separate me and the outside world, I wouldn’t be much fun to be around so they’d up and leave after a while. I know this because it’s happened three times.
After the third girl left, that night I went home and started to self-harm.
I’ve been doing it for about six months and believe me I want to stop but I can’t. It’s like... it’s like I’m addicted...
I’m addicted to the pain that brings relief. I’m addicted to the feeling of the stress leaving my body as I put the blade into my skin and drag it along the once perfect, non scared tissue that lies underneath. I’m addicted to the warmth that the sticky blood brings as it trickles down my arm.
No one knows about my obsession...
And I hope it stays like that...