Memoirs of a Teen: The Untold Story
Darkness
Darkness consumed my petite figure, leaving my eyes to adjust to the new lighting around me, or should I say lack of. I blinked, feeling the sting as my eyes finally made the transition. A sigh passed forth from my lips, breaking the silence that surrounded me.
I didn't need to look around, for I knew the surroundings. One small window, covered up by a set of blinds. One door. Total darkness. Things that have been occupying my life. Things that made me a changed person.
Yes. I used to me a normal teenager. I used to laugh, and smile, and wear bright colors. Oh, I was all of that. I even used to be very involved in sports. My knowledge of that around me made me a honor student.
Now look at me. I'm sitting here, blade marks running up and down my arms. Just memories of trying to take the pain away. My skin is growing taunt against bones, showing all the weight that I have lost. My once 125 pound healthy body is now turned into a 103 pound stick that looks back at me from the mirror.
A stranger....
A person that I have become. A stranger with my voice. No, not even mine anymore. My voice had cheer, spunk, even sweetness. Now it only holds solemn gloom. Gloom of my past, my present, and the gloom of my future.
My once sparkling eyes must have had their switched flipped off. They no longer hold the shine in them. That twinkle that was always there, gone. Everything about me, changed.
This is how I was, once upon a time ago. Hazel eyes. Shoulder length brown hair. A smile that would give a clear night sky a run for its money. Grades to get me into the best colleges. And the social capacity of the president.
Now....
My hair is longer. My eyes no longer shine. Neither does my smile. Grades have slipped, as has my will to live.
I turn my head, leaning it against the adjacent wall of the corner in which I sat. I blinked.
I have changed so much. I am the complete opposite of who I was a few years ago. Everything I say and do. It's all different.
No more colorfully wondrous wardrobe. Nope. That person is gone. Now dark jeans and hoodies have replaced the tank top loving teen. Country music is replaced by screamo and rock.
Everything. Has. Changed.
I drag the sharp metal over my left arm. I suck in a sharp breath, groaning as I let it out. I lean my head back, enjoying the pain of the razor gliding over my arm. The sting of a fresh cut opening up, being filled with the bacteria infested air.
I don't know how many I'll end up doing tonight. I always tell myself that one will be enough, but it never is. One leads to two. Which leads to four. And so on and on. Soon the towel under my arm is soaked. Sometimes I can't make the bleeding stop.
As I go to make another, a sound interrupts me from my masochistic action. A simple knock. My sign that it was time for supper. I guess one cut would have to do...for now at least.
I'll be back, my metallic friend.
I kissed the crimson covered pleasure giver, feeling the ruby colored liquid stain my lips. I lick it off as I wipe my arm; dropping my sleeve back into place.
Darkness, I have come to realize, is my new home. And will be for a long time.
My name is Sport Johnson, and this is my story.
I didn't need to look around, for I knew the surroundings. One small window, covered up by a set of blinds. One door. Total darkness. Things that have been occupying my life. Things that made me a changed person.
Yes. I used to me a normal teenager. I used to laugh, and smile, and wear bright colors. Oh, I was all of that. I even used to be very involved in sports. My knowledge of that around me made me a honor student.
Now look at me. I'm sitting here, blade marks running up and down my arms. Just memories of trying to take the pain away. My skin is growing taunt against bones, showing all the weight that I have lost. My once 125 pound healthy body is now turned into a 103 pound stick that looks back at me from the mirror.
A stranger....
A person that I have become. A stranger with my voice. No, not even mine anymore. My voice had cheer, spunk, even sweetness. Now it only holds solemn gloom. Gloom of my past, my present, and the gloom of my future.
My once sparkling eyes must have had their switched flipped off. They no longer hold the shine in them. That twinkle that was always there, gone. Everything about me, changed.
This is how I was, once upon a time ago. Hazel eyes. Shoulder length brown hair. A smile that would give a clear night sky a run for its money. Grades to get me into the best colleges. And the social capacity of the president.
Now....
My hair is longer. My eyes no longer shine. Neither does my smile. Grades have slipped, as has my will to live.
I turn my head, leaning it against the adjacent wall of the corner in which I sat. I blinked.
I have changed so much. I am the complete opposite of who I was a few years ago. Everything I say and do. It's all different.
No more colorfully wondrous wardrobe. Nope. That person is gone. Now dark jeans and hoodies have replaced the tank top loving teen. Country music is replaced by screamo and rock.
Everything. Has. Changed.
I drag the sharp metal over my left arm. I suck in a sharp breath, groaning as I let it out. I lean my head back, enjoying the pain of the razor gliding over my arm. The sting of a fresh cut opening up, being filled with the bacteria infested air.
I don't know how many I'll end up doing tonight. I always tell myself that one will be enough, but it never is. One leads to two. Which leads to four. And so on and on. Soon the towel under my arm is soaked. Sometimes I can't make the bleeding stop.
As I go to make another, a sound interrupts me from my masochistic action. A simple knock. My sign that it was time for supper. I guess one cut would have to do...for now at least.
I'll be back, my metallic friend.
I kissed the crimson covered pleasure giver, feeling the ruby colored liquid stain my lips. I lick it off as I wipe my arm; dropping my sleeve back into place.
Darkness, I have come to realize, is my new home. And will be for a long time.
My name is Sport Johnson, and this is my story.