Broken Skin

Another morning. Another day. I wake up feeling the same as I did yesterday. Crap.

I pull my clothes off and jump in the shower. I look down at my body and see all of them. The scars, the cuts... New ones and old, some scabbing over now...
I hate it. Cutting. But it helps. It stops it hurting so much. Numbs the pain.

I'm living with my brother, he's 21 now but its good in a way, he's never in so I'm home alone, gives me time to think, time to breathe.

Once I get out of the shower I pull on my uniform. Another day at the hell hole... I don't mind school. I don't enjoy it that much but I like it to get out of the house, to have people around. Out of all the lessons I sit through, only one I enjoy, history. I love learning about the past and what happened all that time ago.

I don't eat breakfast, I never do. I grab an apple and a couple of quid my brother left out and shove the apple in my bag, change in my blazer.

Its warm out today, not that it matters, I can't take off my blazer, too risky see? If anyone sees I can't go back.

The walk to schools short, about 15 minutes... Its a good way to start the morning.

I don't have many friends. I prefer being on my own, the less people that know anything about me, the better. I feel uncomfortable around people, like its akward all the time when its not. I hate talking too... I only talk to ask and answer questions. I hate hearing my self, seeing myself. I just hate me.