Numb

Numb

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The blade, it’s small, and the metal cold. But comforting. I like the feel of it’s polished sides, of the sharp edge that draws blood with so gentle a touch. My eyes are blank as I just stare at the blade positioned over my arms so delicately, tracing lines up and down and tracing the veins so lightly. The crimson regret begins to appear, not a lot, just enough to start dulling the ache.

So gentle as it flows over the edge of my arm and drips onto my jeans. The denim darken under the blood. I moved my arm delicately through the air, dripping the regret on the polished wood floor. I can’t help but watch, subdued.

The mask I’ve worn for so long has cracked and failed. I am not what they saw, I have never been. Behind that ditzy exterior, I was more than they ever imagined. I’m deep, and often thought-provoked. They can’t see that, though, they never looked deep enough.

They never cared enough.

The loveless goddess, it’s laughable. I can’t help but feel bitter. They were my friends. I trusted and loved them, and suddenly I realize... they couldn’t care like they try to seem. No one knows the real me, and that makes a person so lonely.

It started that way, I remember, I was just lonely. No boyfriend, where everyone else did, and that left little ‘girl time’. So I drew away. Slowly of course, but I pulled away. I stopped confiding completely, and I started attending less and less meetings. They were curious at first, but I squelched that right away, and they bought my lies.

I was becoming alone.

And it worked. Now they barely know I exist. I don’t know why I did it, but I feel so... numb. So numb. I can’t seem to feel anything at all anymore. Not even this knife tracing along my veins. Not even when I cut deeper.

The blood is warm, forgiving.

I’m dizzy now. I chuckled a bit, but I’m not sure why. The knife went deeper and I fell onto the floor. My eyes glazed and it went black.

At least I felt the pain of dying.