It's not worth telling others how boring your life is. It's not worth complaining of how this is the best your life can come up with. So why am I here, trying to write about how the red cells in my blood wishes to stream away?
Never have I ever seen so many blood coming out of a cut, of my own. It was around 9:15 in the morning when I became sad and upset. Life had pressured me and I was tired. I saw Pristina's cutter in her pencil case, it was the filling of a cutter. I took it and nonetheless pulled it onto the skin of my right forearm.
It hurt, and it pained. I wasn't thinking clearly, I lost control of myself and I couldn't handle the desire of wanting to bleed. For 5 seconds the cut just slit open, then a lot of blood rushed out. I panicked because I didn't want the blood to drop. So I pressed on it with the sleeves of my uniform, and it went through. The skin bled too many.
I was half glad and half guilty I did it. I went out of class to make sure nobody noticed but Pristina caught me halfway.
She was mad I did it, she told me I shouldn't and that she hates me for doing it. She held my cut as I realize the blood gushed out almost to my fingers. I needed to be fixed. She pulled me and cleaned the cut and bandaged it. I cried along the way.
It wasn't the pain that was torturing me, it wasn't even life. It was just me. I hated myself for being so weak and being too deep. I don't get how dumb I've become. Why couldn't I simply enjoy life and forget about sorrow? Why am I numbing my own life?
I don't like Zahra Thania. Nor does she.
*bleeds*
