She didn't have a bad life.
Her life may not be perfect but who's is?
She had friends - friends who would be there whenever she needed them.
That didn't stop the way she was feeling.
It didn't stop the feeling of hopelessness and worthlessness.
They took over her body.
They took over her life.
She felt she had no right to feel like this.
She wasn't some abused kid like everyone thought she was.
People were so stereotypical.
Just because she wore black all the time and was always angry she's seen as a abused kid; either that or a depressed kid.
That's not the case though.
She's not abused.
She never has been.
Her parents love her.
They don't show it but she knows they do.
Her Mom's the typical type of mum.
Her Dad; well he's a different story.
He doesn't like 'creative' people.
He says it's not stable - that the media industry is just so hard to get into.
He doesn't believe she can do it.
He doesn't want her to get her hopes up.
He's just looking out for her.
He's just looking out for his daughter.
He doesn't understand how much music and acting means to her.
Being creative is who she is.
Knowing her Father doesn't believe in her dream.
Knowing he doesn't believe she will ever make it, -Makes her feel so small, So worthless.
She sometimes wonders if he's right; if it is a waste of time.
Maybe she is wasting her life.
Maybe she is ruining her life.
She can just never seem to make her Father happy.
No matter how hard she tries - she always seems to disappoint him.
And it hurts.
It hurts so much and there was no way to get rid of the pain.
The overwhelming feeling of having to please everyone, to not mess up, was hurting her.
It felt as if she was stuck in a room and the space was getting smaller; she couldn't breathe.
She had to be perfect - it's what everybody wanted.
Being perfect is harder than it looks, to be honest it's impossible.
Nobody can be perfect but they didn't understand that.
If she wanted to get anywhere in life, she had to be better than everyone else.
She has to be perfect.
She felt like she didn't matter.
She felt useless - worthless.
She had to be perfect, but no-one's perfect.
Being perfect is not possible.
Everyone was expecting too much from her: Her friends, her family, everyone...
They needed her; her friends needed her.
They may not seem like it most the time, but they do.
The may make her feel like she doesn't matter sometimes, but she knew that they didn't mean it.
They needed her.
She needed them too.
No matter how much she tried to convince herself different, she knew she needed them.
Deep down she knew.
And it hurt her, in her own way.
She was hurting and no one knew it.
She deserved to feel the way she did.
It was her fault.
She deserved to feel pain.
She needed a way to release the pain she was feeling on the inside.
She needed a way to show the pain she was feeling on the inside- on the outside.
And each and every time she picked up the razor she knew she was hurting the people around her.
She imagine how the people around her would feel if they knew what she was doing - her friends most of all.
She knew they would hurt.
They might not show it but they would all hurt.
She knew that if what she was doing led to something bad and permanent they would be broken.
It hurt her to imagine that.
But that's not what hurt her most of all.
It took a few months of cutting to know that there was no going back.
She had to hurt herself - she had to cut.
She knew the damage she was doing.
The pain she would cause if people found out.
She knew people cared about her.
She knew if they found out they'd be broken.
It didn't stop her.
Nothing could.
It hurt her but she needed it.
Without it she would die.
It was like an addiction but she couldn't admit the problem she had.
Saying it aloud would make it all too real.
She wasn't ready for that.
Not yet.
That was when she realised.
She was broken.
She was broken beyond repair.
There was no going back.