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emoxMCRx4ever

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  I sat in the depths of my deep dark room writing down what horrible things happened that day in my only close friend, my diary.

"Dear Diary,

  Today was just as worse as every other day. Those slutty cheerleaders giving me disgusted looks, the jocks tripping me in the hallways, and teachers failing me for everything I turn in. Why can't I be nonexistant? No one would care if I was gone. Oh scratch that, DEAD. Hell, I'm an ugly emo girl. Nothing special about me. Every time I look in a mirror, I see an ugly duckling looking back at me. I'm not pretty at all. And everyone always makes fun of me. Ugh, I just need to be alone. I'll write back later..... :'("

  I pick up my guitar and slowly start to strum the strings and finger the frets. Playing a tune to match my sorrow. I stop to see where my long skinny fingers are in the neck of the guitar until the scars on my wrist flash at me. My eyes open wider and I throw the guitar on the ground. I put my pale hands over my ugly face and tears start to roll down my cheeks. "Why did I ever do that to myself?!" I hear myself sob.

  The memories of the knife touching my quivering skin still make me shudder. My veins were showing through my paper-white skin, wanting to bleed down my bare arm.  Just the thought of the blood leaking out of my wrist make me cry harder and put myself in more pain than I should be. The only way to cover up my cries are to blast my music and hope to become calm. I hold myself tight with all of my strength left in me.

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  I lay in bed thinking of what happened earlier today. A scene of the knife flashed again. I shut my eyes quick and said to myself, "It's the past, only a forgotten memory that comes back." Grabbing my diary and pen from my nightstand, a morose look appears on my blank canvas called my face. Yet again, I write to my friend.

  "Dear Diary,

  'The Memory' keeps coming back. I can't stop it, almost like an addiction the evil side wants from me. Just a look at the scars makes me break down and cry. I just want my pain to stop. But it won't, ever. Maybe a dream will help me pull mtself together, for now. Sweet dreams......"

  I put up my diary and gently drift off to sleep with the sweet sound of music from my iPod. My eyes close slowly and all I hear last are the words from Gerard Way singing, "So long, and goodnight".........