Sting. Burn. Relief.

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One scar there. One there. A bigger one there. I'm a painting. A human canvas; every cut is to much red paint by now. To much pain. But that level goes down. When I lose more blood.

My art game is self harm. Yeah.... stupid. I know.

More blood.

I smile.

I have won.

I am the victor.

I just beat Misery at his own game. Or her.

Her. Mom? The woman who killed herself on my 6th birthday? Whitney Keller? The most popular girl in the galaxy? The biggest bully really. Eve Ray? My forever crushes perfect girlfriend.

Or, maybe just Him.

I pull down my sleeve and just sit letting the scar sting. I'm in a school bathroom.... and self harming. I put some disinfect medicine on it and watch the blood clot with the clear and smooth life saver.

Okay; I couldn't help but watch myself bleed. I can't help it.

Misery lessens its grip over my chest as I bleed.

I feel relief.

I walk out the stall and wash my hands in the empty and run down bathroom. Like home.

I grit my teeth and watch blood go down the sink and into who-knows-where.

They can have my blood.

I use my left hand to squeeze my right wrist.

It burns.

Relief.

I pull my rather cheap jacket around myself and I walk out of the bathroom.

Back to class.

Back to jeers, stupid people, and ..... well...... whatever you call the other fucktards.

Back to hell.

I squeeze my wrist.

It hurts. Bad.

I whimper.

And then a greedy smile is on my face.

I just beat misery. At his own game.

Him. Yeah, its a guy.

For now.

Misery takes different shapes.

Right now, all I feel is the slashed flesh.

And it feels good.

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