There was blood. And the people who loved me. Both fighting for control, for my heart; my life. I lived in two separate worlds. One had seduced me with shining razors and perfect blood. The other seemed to always be there, a circle of people who were far from perfect, but the loved me, trusted me, remembered me. And I- I forgot all that. I stepped outside the circle and wrapped myself in a world so thick I couldn't breathe. True, our circle had missing pieces. There were, and always would be, holes where people once stood. We all figured our own way to fill those spaces though. Mom painted, Grandma cried, and I escaped. Once a day I would leave this world that we all found so painful. I would read my many books or sit in front of my glowing box, flipping channels so fast I didn't have time to think. But that was the whole idea I suppose.

One night the channels stopped changing, the screen went black and I panicked. I checked the plug, flipped the switch and felt a lump rise in my throat. It was broken and I was all alone with my thoughts. I stumbled through my dark room, looking for something I couldn't name. My hands searched blindly through drawers and over papers, there had to be something here to drive these thoughts from my head. My clumsy fingers ran over something cold, metallic. I grasped this life line and pulled it from the drawer. Scissors. They were sharp with a black handle and cold blades. They shone in lines from the streetlight outside my window as I pressed the edge against the snow-white flesh of my inner arm. There were pale blue lines under my tingling skin. I closed my eyes and pulled the metal over my arm, gasping as a flash of pain traveled up my arm, into my brain. But I could breathe. The scissors found my arm again as I felt a drop of warm, wet blood slide down my skin and hit my foot. The second cut was less painful and I found myself smiling as I did it. Sleep came easy that night and for once, I slept through without nightmares of lost people and broken homes.

The morning is glaringly bright and I cover my eyes with my pillow, the warm cloth against my face. There are always these times in the morning when I don't remember all that has happened. I can smile without trying and don't need anything to keep away the burning thoughts. These times only made the pain of realization all the worse. This morning it comes later, only after I find the crusty scabs and smeared blood. It hits back then and I suppress the sob in my chest. I don't cry. I don't cry. I don't cry.