I bit my lip and turned up the volume on my mp3 player in a vain attempt to ignore the paper ball that had been thrown at the back of my head. I knew that more would come, but had learned to live with it. If you could call my pitiful existence living. It certainly didn't feel like it.
  After school each day, I would die. Well, not literally, but I'd die inside. It sounds corny, but it's the only way I can describe the bitter emptiness of my soul. The empty shell that was my body, me, would enter the empty house that I lived in, with its empty cupboards and empty greetings that would occasionally await me. After the empty day, I try to add something to my empty life.
  I don't know what caused me to start doing this in the first place. It can't have been a plea for attention, because I didn't want any contact with people. I hated them all. Yet, to leave them all behind and head off to a better place seemed impossible. So pathetic.
  But now, every night on my bed, I sit, dragging a razor across my wrist and becoming entranced. I find watching my own blood seep out of me sickly fascinating, admiring the varying speeds depending on how deep I cut. To me, it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, and to know that I'm the cause of it excites me. Like an addiction, it captivates and controls me, and I can't give it up.
  It's wrong. It's so wrong, but I feel like there's nothing else I can do with my life, that has no purpose anyway. All I want is to fill the empty spaces. It's impossible. My life is an empty vacuum, which I cannot stop. Every day is exactly the same; I sit at school, trying desperately to stay immune to any comments thrown in my direction. I drone out the abuse on the bus with my mp3 player, and attempt to ignore the physical harm I suffer. I won't retaliate. I don't have the soul for it.
  Still with my earplugs in, I got off the bus, staggering as I was pushed, and walked home as quickly as I could. I needed something. I needed the pain that only I could inflict upon myself, the beauty of crimson flow sliding down my arm, or somewhere else.
  I realised as I walked into the house that it was not just me that was empty, but so was my heart. I didn't feel like a normal person was supposed to, surely. Only a dull thudding in time to chanting insults thrown by those around me, trying to knock down my imaginary fortress, lived in my chest. It wouldn't twist and cringe when I fell in love, because I knew deep down that I never would. Who could possibly fall in love with me?
  Yes, I decided as I grabbed the well used blade and wandered into my room. Today I was going to cut somewhere other than my wrist. Nervous, as I had never done this before, I unbuttoned my school shirt and stared at my distorted reflection in the mirror, flinching in disgust. My skin was pale, stretched across my chest, hipbones threatening to pierce right through it. I could see each bone move as I did, and it sickened me. My gaze rose upwards, to my face. My dark eyes were surrounded by black eyeliner and permanent red circles that refused to go away, due to my uncontrollable crying and lack of sleep. My lips were thin and dry, chapped from the wetness of too many tears. Unwashed black hair fell onto my cheeks, hiding the emptiness of my eyes.
  I sighed, and looked at the glinting blade. With slight reluctance, I lifted it and pressed it into my chest. I let out a gasp as I dragged it down, watching its kiss bloom into red flowers with my shaking hand. With more confidence this time, I drew the blade down again, trying desperately to bleed out some emotion from deep down inside of me, something, anything to stop me from feeling so worthless. It didn't work, and a pathetic rage consumed me. With anger, I slashed the blade fiercely, moaning with the pain it caused me. But I didn't stop: I couldn't stop. Did I even deserve to stop myself?
  Crying and shaking, I dropped the razorblade to see what damage I had inflicted upon myself. Red lines created a tapestry over my chest, across my heart that was breaking so slowly. I'd done this to myself, and now, there was no going back.
  An utter wreck, I collapsed onto the floor, sobbing, bleeding, breaking. I was being eaten away from the inside, and now that this had started, it wouldn't be stopping any time soon.