“I’m trying to tell you how I feel.” She screamed.
“You’re overreacting.” Her mom responded.
“Overreacting? This is what I’m talking about; this is exactly what I try to tell you. You’re impossible to talk to.”
“What? I hear you.”
“Do you really hear me?” She said as she walked away.
She went into her room and shoved her head into her pillow to cry, screaming inside the cotton filled case. She decided to shower and let the warm water wash away the tears. She figured she could cry and yearn all she wanted in there without anyone bothering her.
She un-dressed; her naked body stepping into the dripping hot water. She crouched down so that her butt hit the cold tile of her shower, the palms of her hands pressed into her eyes as she wept. Her body convulsed in agony with uncontrollable tears.
She let the rest of her body collapse onto the floor, until the tears subsided. She reached a point where she was no longer crying, but left somehow unable to move. Her body sat, frozen, the steam of the hot water rising around her. She was all out of tears at the moment; all she could do was stare. She watched the steam bounce between the wall and the sliding glass door of the bathtub.
Her eyes found the razor that was lying at the corner of the tiled floor. She looked at the razor and back at her wrist; her skinny, dainty, smooth wrists. How lovely and how untouched, she thought, staring at the blue veins pushing out from behind her skin.
She picked it up and brushed it against her skin, lightly. She pushed out the blade and held it in her hand. She cried some more, it felt like all of her was flooding out.
Her body ached, it felt as though her insides were filled with broken pieces stabbing to be let out. She clutched her stomach in the midst of her ceaseless cries.
She looked back down at the blade and back at her wrist, her eyes dancing between both.
She stood up and stepped out of her shower, wrapping herself with a towel. She walked back to her room and jotted down a few things on a piece of paper that she had ripped out from a notebook.
The hot water still running.
She put the pen down and walked back to the bathroom, stepping back in and returning to her previous position.
She picked up the blade once more and took a deep breath.
And on her desk was a piece of paper that read:
Letter to my parents,
I was in pain,
And you didn’t hear me.
No one could.
The water continued to drip.
– Danielle Sheehan
If you or anyone you know are feeling, sad, lost or confused, please know that there is always someone who cares and wants to hear you. There is always someone who can relate, so please seek help to US, or ANYONE you know; you can even visit http://www.loveisrespect.org/ for guidance, advice or just simply somewhere to relate. Stay positive and spread happiness, always.