She falls asleep.
Her biggest fears come alive.
Everyone left her, she’s alone.
Her dream self walks down the street, showing no signs of distress. She’s wearing a hoodie, not only to hide the scars on her arms, but also to cover her face. Her makeup is running from the tears.
As she walks, she smiles and waves to others. She seems genuinely happy. She holds everything in.
But holding it all in is like trying to hold a reckless kitten. It’s very difficult. You get clawed, scratched, bitten, you even start bleeding sometimes.
She continues walking until she finds her car. She puts the key in the ignition and drives to her home in the country. She walks inside, takes off her shoes and jacket, and walks to her bathroom.
She looks in the mirror, and sees a grotesque beast.
Her big brown hair disgusts her.
Her face is unbearable to look at.
Let’s not mention her body shape.
She grabs a razor, determined to fix this mess. She shaves her legs, for the approval of others. So she doesn’t look like a slob.
Then, she slides the razor horizontally. Across her thigh. She slides it until she realizes it hurts. She relocates the razor, and repeats.
She knows what she’s doing is wrong. Not because it hurts, but because people would be disappointed in her. Because society says it’s not okay to break down, so we learn to bottle it up. (Now, don’t get me wrong, cutting is not okay, but the only reason some people don’t is because they’d be ashamed.)
She lays in bed and thinks about what she’s done. The tears run down her face because she knows nobody can help her. She is alone. Alone with her deteriorating thoughts. She closes her eyes, trying to sleep. But the nightmares feast on what sanity she has left.
Her real self wakes up. Let the day terrors begin.
Hey my dudes! I just needed to write something to get all of my bottled emotions out. Don’t worry, I’m okay.
See you guys soon!