"She Has Scars Under Her Sleeves"I was born. That's how it always starts. Being born. Because of that, you live. And if you live long enough, you start thinking. That got me in trouble. I thought too much. I left. Life became hard. No more living, just surviving. Everything I thought I knew was gone. That ended two years ago. When I was adopted. Me, a child, not a baby, adopted. Rare. So I went. I lived. I got used to it. No more surviving, just living. But then, things changed again. I lost my voice. I can't talk. At all. Since then, people treat me different. Like I'm odd. They hurt me. Because they know they can. Hurt me in lots of ways. So I started cutting. I knew what to do some how. I just knew. It hurt the first time. But I did it. Again and again. It hurt so much, but it felt good. I still do when I hurt inside or out. It makes the worse hurt to away.
Emolia 18-21, F 2 Responses 4 Sep 16, 2012