She pulled off the two hair scrunchies that seemed to permanently reside on her left wrist these days. She looked down at the reason why she felt it necessary to have her wrist covered. It was a single red scar that was nothing but a faded perfect line.

The fact that there was only one scar did not mean that there had only been one time she’d cut. Instead she was smart to just cut in the same spot over again. It also symbolized that there was really only one reason for the pain she’d been feeling these past few years. Him.

She eyed the scar. This was the first time in months that she’s been able to bring herself to even look at it for more than a few seconds. These past few months had also been the best in her life though. Recently, however, that changed and she’d realized she was falling deeper and deeper into this inevitable depression she kept finding herself in for the last year or so.

The whole day she’d been trying to find the happiness that she’d felt not that long ago. Somehow, she’d already forgotten the feeling. This was just another sign that she needed him in her life quite badly. Yet, he was no where to be found these last few days, and when he was found it seemed to her that he wanted nothing to do with her. This was what had caused the relapse in depression. Still she wouldn’t have resorted to this outlet of pain again if it hadn’t been for the ‘friend’ that told her she should just go cut her wrists and that ‘he’ would never lover her anyway.

She knew she shouldn’t have taken it personally because this friend had truly been only joking and knew nothing about her depressed past, self-mutilation, nor her thoughts that had been running through her mind that she’d never have a chance with Him anyway. And yet, isn’t that a confirmation on her beliefs? She took it to be.

So now here she was, staring down at this one little scar that had been bladeless for long enough. She picked up the knife sitting next to her. Before she’s only cut with smaller things and lightly, more for the pain than the blood. She knew this one would be different though.

No, she wasn’t going to cut down the river; it’d still be across the stream. But this time she was going to touch bottom and get more than a little wet.

She hesitated for just a second as she touched the cold blade to her skin. Then, with a good bit of pressure applied, she slid the blade across her whole wrist in just one quick motion. Her eyes widened as the scar opened and blood began to flow… along with all her pent up emotions.


Her first thoughts were of the previous year and her rendezvous with him from those days. Some had been great and some completely terrible. It had been the fact that they ended completely terrible that had led to her first time cutting. Oh, how ashamed she’d been afterwards! She still couldn’t believe though that that was the first time he’d made her lose a little self-respect.

To kiss her… oh what a wonderful feeling she’d had! It was the feeling afterwards, his rejection, that had led to her experimentations in hope for a release of pain. And even though it hadn’t released all her pain, it was still addicting. She started to think about it all the time and she even did a few times though she was usually able to curb the urge. And life went on. He was there, then he wasn’t, then he was back, then he left again. All the while he rejected her every time she even looked like she was going to try to ask. And yet… Life went on.


Then thoughts came of this year. Not just this year but the last few weeks. The days that had brought back the urge to self-destruct. The days where he’d ‘left’ again. Even after he’d ‘stayed’ with her for so long. She’d shared everything with him and he’d shared everything with her. Then he started to withdraw. Not even slowly. It was a swift and sudden kick in the face to her and that was what set her off.


Then, at last, as the blood was really flowing, thoughts of the time period in between came. ‘The happy days’ as she was thinking of them. The day he just walked up to her and started a conversation. And all the days after that followed. When he’d call her at least once a day. When those conversations lasted for hours on end. The smiles and brushes in the hall as they passed. The feeling of his eyes on her and his fingers in her hair. The rush she felt when he told her that there were feelings there even if they weren’t strong enough. Thoughts of determination to make his feelings stronger.



All these last thoughts were those that brought her back to reality and made her realize she was sobbing and her blood was still flowing. She threw her knife in the sink, rinsed it and her wrist, and bandaged her wrist quickly. She was ashamed to have let her melancholy feeling get the best of her yet again. She couldn’t let something like this dark period erase her memories of all the feelings she just relived. How could things not get better when there’s happiness in the world like that she felt just a month or so ago?
Once her wrist was bandaged she put the scrunchies overtop of it once again. She inserted her ear buds, laid her head on the pillow and fell asleep in shame. She dreamed of hope and love. Life went on.



The next morning she woke late. She had just enough time to brush her teeth and get dressed before the bus came. She left the house in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, with her hair in a ponytail, and no makeup on.


She got on the bus and listened to her music thinking nothing but ‘life goes on’. She was not out of her depression, but it wasn’t as serious as it had been just the night before.


She arrived at school with 5 minutes to spare and stand in the lobby talking to her friends. Yet, she wasn’t quite interested and didn’t really pay attention until her friend leaned in and whispered, “He’s back.”


Her eyes widened as her friend looked directly behind her. She mouthed to her friend ‘is he behind me?’ and her friend nodded.


She whirled around just as he got to her. He smiled the smile she’d been missing for days and before she could open her mouth or react he bent down and kissed her full on the lips.


She was rendered helpless to do anything but kiss him back. It was a good thing that that was the only thing she even considered doing.


The bell rang for homeroom and he pulled away and slipped his hand in hers. Life went on.