before

im crying.
tears hit the keys,
exploding.
slipping water baloons.
mom enters.
she teases me about that boy.
can she not see my pain?

its too much.
i call kyra
-don't do it-don't do it- don't do it-
i try to talk my emotions out,
but it's not working.
my voice is rising,
cracking,
every pause physically draining,
-don't do it-don't do it- don't do it-
every shake,
every breathe,
-don't do it-don't do it- don't do it-
a pain.
she tries to help,
but she isn't as affected.
or doesn't show it.
i can't stand this.
-don't do it-don't do it- don't do it-


but i know i will.

i tell her i need to hang up.
-don't do it-don't do it- don't do it-
 that voice is getting weaker.
my will getting stronger

i dry my face, and walk into the hall
-knock-
mom's inside.
i lie, force a smile into my voice
"i just need to use the bathroom"
i'm getting so good at lying.

i slow back into my room,
sit there.
thoughts racing.


-knock-
"honey i'm out"
"thanks mom"


i practically fly into the room.
reach into the drawer for the razor.
the razor i purposefully broke when i was cleaning the bathroom.
the one i quickly dragged across my skin, then threw in the back of the drawer.

the one i've been thinking about since that day.


a clean start.
no tallies
new scars
this is the life
of the scarred

-E