This is something that I wrote for homework about a year/2 years ago, before I started my blog. It’s not great so bear with, and I haven’t edited it in any way. I thought I’d share with you the piece that got me into writing.
The Difference Between Happiness and Sadness.
Happiness. That word, what does it mean? Is it good? Bad? I don’t know, I never know anymore. I don’t experience ‘happiness’ anymore. Being sad is horrible, it destroys you inside, and it ruins your life. But it’s the only way I know. How do you be ‘happy’? A part of my brain can’t carry on, pretending to everyone that I am happy, content, and relaxed. The other sais to carry on smiling; being fake to the people I care most about. Who am I? I am sad, lonely, angry, depressed. Who do people think I am? They think that I am happy, bubbly, at peace with myself. No. They couldn’t be more wrong. I wake up; I stare at the ceiling; I feel the warm tears that caress down my cheeks. Can I pretend like this anymore? It hurts. Kills even. But will I let this this sad ghost of me take over whom I really am; whom I present myself as? How do I become motivated? I’m not at the moment, I can tell you that.
My life, I live two of them: My school life and my home life, both completely different. To my friends and the public I am perceived as confident and bubbly. I have no problems and my life, as a 15-year-old teenaged girl is perfect and normal filled with jealous hormonal girls wanting to be like me. But no one knows what goes on behind closed doors, do they? My home secret life consists of a sad, lonely, insecure teenaged girl who thinks nothing other than suicide as the best option as she sits on her bed with the curtains closed; blade at the ready.
The blade, its metallic surface is cold and shiny; ready to be painted red and be warmed up in the palm of her hand and then fiercely swiped across her pale lifeless skin. The blade suddenly has a mind of its own as it springs from my hand, bouncing off the bedside table and the sound of it clanking on to my wooden floor springs to my ears. I bend to pick it up; my treasured possession was out of my reach for that fraction of a second. I scoop it up into my palm and hold it close like I cant let it go again. I feel the cold blade in my hand, my heart races and my skin tingles, my mind is taken over and my urge gets stronger, do I ignore it? Do I give in?
Too late, I let out a sigh of relief. What have I done? I stare at my wrists and all the way up my lower arm; deep cuts clutter my skin. I watch the blood cascade my arms and drip onto my bedclothes. How do I hide this?
This feeling, this is what I love, what I look forward to for when I get home. For the few seconds as the blade breaks my skin, I don’t think about my sad life, no. I focus on the pain that I have just inflicted on myself, the pain that allows me to release the emotions deep inside of me. I cut myself regularly, I am drawn away from my life that I am forced to live, and for that small moment I forget everything. I sit peacefully and watch the blood drip from my arm and I take in this wonderful stinging sensation. Ah, but as the stinging wears away, I remember who I am; I remember how difficult my life is. With nowhere else to cut, what am I to do now? Once again, I stare at my blood stained arm, my thoughts returning back to the crazy idea of suicide. Would this solve everything? I haven’t a clue; a part of me hopes so.
Arriving at school I forget last nights trauma and greet my cheerful friends with a warm big smile. I hug each one of them in turn; I need these hugs. We share the latest gossip and discuss the latest boy situation- everything is forgotten; I think I am happy. I open out my arms and ask for one last hug from my best friend before I make my way through the busy corridors of the Chalfonts the get to my class. The warm breath coming from Maddy brushes and tickles my ear and I feel her steady heart beat though her jumper. As I release Maddy, her arms gently brush against mine, ouch. The pain excruciated through my body, goosebumps appeared on my skin. I squinted my eyes and held my breath as I waited for what it seemed a lifetime until this stabbing pain passed. Maddy took a step back, did she notice?
As I walked through the busy corridor, my paranoia kicked in. I felt judge mental eyes stare me up and down. Why were they looking at me? Did they know something? What have I done wrong? My breathing quickened and my legs turned to jelly. I couldn’t run, I walked fast; I burst into my classroom, this time everyone really was looking at me. I rushed to my seat and sat down not so gracefully and my palms were sweaty and sticky. What was that about? Surely no one knows who I am? No, it was just my mind playing tricks. The lesson passed and I continued to think about what the world would be like if I wasn’t here to dampen everyone’s moods. My eyes filled with tears, would anyone care? The bell sounded and I sprinted out of the class and ran home, I would do the deed tonight when my mum went out.
My arms dripped with blood, the floor puddled with blotches of red and the blade laid there innocently on the bathroom floor, waiting to be picked up again. It shined in the light; it was a bright light that reflected onto the tiled wall. Was this bright light, heaven? Will I go to heaven? Or will I go to hell?
I lay on the bathroom floor; I then picked myself up and lifelessly crawled to my bedroom. My wardrobe; it was the perfect place. The rope was spread across my bed and my suicidal note was complete. The rope was a dirty brown colour with loose bits winding out of the neat twist; this is what I will use. I thought about my friends; my wonderful beautiful girls, my sisters briefly scattered my mind, my mum plastered in my brain, she wouldn’t move. I love her so much. Is it that selfish of me to end my life purely for my own comfort? I’ll leave that for others to judge..