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I could feel every bone in her hand. I didn’t want to hold her too tight. I was scared she’d snap. Her breathing was shallow and raspy, her eyes a dull grey.
Why are you frowning?
Her words were croaky and gasped. She was so weak. I bit my lip to stop the sobs that were welling up inside me. My eyes were stinging. I shut them tightly, determined she wouldn’t see me cry.
‘I frown when I’m trying not to cry,’ my voice shook. It was no use lying to her, she knew me too well. She could read me like a book. She was silent, but I felt her hand close tighter around mine. She tried to smile but it just made her face more skull-like. Her eyes were sunken into her head, grey smudges, no life left in them at all.
How could anyone do this to themselves? I mean cutting yourself was one thing, but starving yourself. That was incredible. I was in strangely awe of her, the control she had over herself, how much she must hate herself. I mean that was real hatred. I could never do that. But I pitied her. To be that desperate, that despairing, there was nothing incredible about that. I mainly only cut myself to stop other things hurting, a way of numbing all my other emotions, punishing myself. And everyone knew I was that kind of person. I mean no one was really very surprised when they saw my wrists. They knew I was in pain, just wild enough to do it, but not Hannah.
She had been my best friend since I was five. She had always pushed me around a bit because she was older, but I still loved her just as much. She wasn’t the typical friend type. She was always out for number one and didn’t really take into account other people’s feelings. She wasn’t what you’d call caring and never talked about her feelings. It made her hard to talk to sometimes, but somehow we understood each other. And I was her best friend. Even though I was just over a year younger, I was the only person she let get close to her. And it wasn’t really a typical friendship either. Sometimes we’d sit there in silence for ages. And, like I said, she’d push me around a bit, but she wasn’t unkind.
Perhaps she was more complicated then even I had thought. It had been three years since I’d seen her. And even after three years I was the first person her mum called. Her brother too. Her poor mum. She was the kindest most caring person I’d ever known. I loved her so much, in a way more than Hannah. I was like her daughter, and we were closer than she and Hannah had ever been. She was so desperate. As soon as she’d heard my voice she had burst into tears. And I understood her. I could feel her pain.
When you care about someone so much, but they wont let you in, and you know you can’t help them, it kills you. You hate yourself. And it hurts. It hurts so much. It’s unbearable. You care about nothing else and it kind of eats at you. Ironic seeing as she wasn’t eating at all. I wanted to cut myself but I didn’t think it would help this time, there was no way to numb this kind of pain. It was a kind of love I guess, that you can’t hide. And it was so strong it hurt. Physically, mentally, every way there was. Everyone told me off for moping around at school. They’d ask what’s wrong but like they really cared. I couldn’t be bothered to explain. No one would understand anyway, just a waste of breath. None of them even if they tried to understand could help me or even say anything. They all went quiet and this annoyed me. So it was better not to say anything at all….
Why are you frowning?
Her words were croaky and gasped. She was so weak. I bit my lip to stop the sobs that were welling up inside me. My eyes were stinging. I shut them tightly, determined she wouldn’t see me cry.
‘I frown when I’m trying not to cry,’ my voice shook. It was no use lying to her, she knew me too well. She could read me like a book. She was silent, but I felt her hand close tighter around mine. She tried to smile but it just made her face more skull-like. Her eyes were sunken into her head, grey smudges, no life left in them at all.
How could anyone do this to themselves? I mean cutting yourself was one thing, but starving yourself. That was incredible. I was in strangely awe of her, the control she had over herself, how much she must hate herself. I mean that was real hatred. I could never do that. But I pitied her. To be that desperate, that despairing, there was nothing incredible about that. I mainly only cut myself to stop other things hurting, a way of numbing all my other emotions, punishing myself. And everyone knew I was that kind of person. I mean no one was really very surprised when they saw my wrists. They knew I was in pain, just wild enough to do it, but not Hannah.
She had been my best friend since I was five. She had always pushed me around a bit because she was older, but I still loved her just as much. She wasn’t the typical friend type. She was always out for number one and didn’t really take into account other people’s feelings. She wasn’t what you’d call caring and never talked about her feelings. It made her hard to talk to sometimes, but somehow we understood each other. And I was her best friend. Even though I was just over a year younger, I was the only person she let get close to her. And it wasn’t really a typical friendship either. Sometimes we’d sit there in silence for ages. And, like I said, she’d push me around a bit, but she wasn’t unkind.
Perhaps she was more complicated then even I had thought. It had been three years since I’d seen her. And even after three years I was the first person her mum called. Her brother too. Her poor mum. She was the kindest most caring person I’d ever known. I loved her so much, in a way more than Hannah. I was like her daughter, and we were closer than she and Hannah had ever been. She was so desperate. As soon as she’d heard my voice she had burst into tears. And I understood her. I could feel her pain.
When you care about someone so much, but they wont let you in, and you know you can’t help them, it kills you. You hate yourself. And it hurts. It hurts so much. It’s unbearable. You care about nothing else and it kind of eats at you. Ironic seeing as she wasn’t eating at all. I wanted to cut myself but I didn’t think it would help this time, there was no way to numb this kind of pain. It was a kind of love I guess, that you can’t hide. And it was so strong it hurt. Physically, mentally, every way there was. Everyone told me off for moping around at school. They’d ask what’s wrong but like they really cared. I couldn’t be bothered to explain. No one would understand anyway, just a waste of breath. None of them even if they tried to understand could help me or even say anything. They all went quiet and this annoyed me. So it was better not to say anything at all….
Thanks Kyz.
Very good, I enjoyed that :-D
I could feel every bone in her hand. I didn’t want to hold her too tight. I was scared she’d snap. Her breathing was shallow and raspy, her eyes a dull grey.
Why are you frowning?
Her words were croaky and gasped. She was so weak. I bit my lip to stop the sobs that were welling up inside me. My eyes were stinging. I shut them tightly, determined she wouldn’t see me cry.
‘I frown when I’m trying not to cry,’ my voice shook. It was no use lying to her, she knew me too well. She could read me like a book. She was silent, but I felt her hand close tighter around mine. She tried to smile but it just made her face more skull-like. Her eyes were sunken into her head, grey smudges, no life left in them at all.
How could anyone do this to themselves? I mean cutting yourself was one thing, but starving yourself. That was incredible. I was in strangely awe of her, the control she had over herself, how much she must hate herself. I mean that was real hatred. I could never do that. But I pitied her. To be that desperate, that despairing, there was nothing incredible about that. I mainly only cut myself to stop other things hurting, a way of numbing all my other emotions, punishing myself. And everyone knew I was that kind of person. I mean no one was really very surprised when they saw my wrists. They knew I was in pain, just wild enough to do it, but not Hannah.
She had been my best friend since I was five. She had always pushed me around a bit because she was older, but I still loved her just as much. She wasn’t the typical friend type. She was always out for number one and didn’t really take into account other people’s feelings. She wasn’t what you’d call caring and never talked about her feelings. It made her hard to talk to sometimes, but somehow we understood each other. And I was her best friend. Even though I was just over a year younger, I was the only person she let get close to her. And it wasn’t really a typical friendship either. Sometimes we’d sit there in silence for ages. And, like I said, she’d push me around a bit, but she wasn’t unkind.
Perhaps she was more complicated then even I had thought. It had been three years since I’d seen her. And even after three years I was the first person her mum called. Her brother too. Her poor mum. She was the kindest most caring person I’d ever known. I loved her so much, in a way more than Hannah. I was like her daughter, and we were closer than she and Hannah had ever been. She was so desperate. As soon as she’d heard my voice she had burst into tears. And I understood her. I could feel her pain.
When you care about someone so much, but they wont let you in, and you know you can’t help them, it kills you. You hate yourself. And it hurts. It hurts so much. It’s unbearable. You care about nothing else and it kind of eats at you. Ironic seeing as she wasn’t eating at all. I wanted to cut myself but I didn’t think it would help this time, there was no way to numb this kind of pain. It was a kind of love I guess, that you can’t hide. And it was so strong it hurt. Physically, mentally, every way there was. Everyone told me off for moping around at school. They’d ask what’s wrong but like they really cared. I couldn’t be bothered to explain. No one would understand anyway, just a waste of breath. None of them even if they tried to understand could help me or even say anything. They all went quiet and this annoyed me. So it was better not to say anything at all….
Why are you frowning?
Her words were croaky and gasped. She was so weak. I bit my lip to stop the sobs that were welling up inside me. My eyes were stinging. I shut them tightly, determined she wouldn’t see me cry.
‘I frown when I’m trying not to cry,’ my voice shook. It was no use lying to her, she knew me too well. She could read me like a book. She was silent, but I felt her hand close tighter around mine. She tried to smile but it just made her face more skull-like. Her eyes were sunken into her head, grey smudges, no life left in them at all.
How could anyone do this to themselves? I mean cutting yourself was one thing, but starving yourself. That was incredible. I was in strangely awe of her, the control she had over herself, how much she must hate herself. I mean that was real hatred. I could never do that. But I pitied her. To be that desperate, that despairing, there was nothing incredible about that. I mainly only cut myself to stop other things hurting, a way of numbing all my other emotions, punishing myself. And everyone knew I was that kind of person. I mean no one was really very surprised when they saw my wrists. They knew I was in pain, just wild enough to do it, but not Hannah.
She had been my best friend since I was five. She had always pushed me around a bit because she was older, but I still loved her just as much. She wasn’t the typical friend type. She was always out for number one and didn’t really take into account other people’s feelings. She wasn’t what you’d call caring and never talked about her feelings. It made her hard to talk to sometimes, but somehow we understood each other. And I was her best friend. Even though I was just over a year younger, I was the only person she let get close to her. And it wasn’t really a typical friendship either. Sometimes we’d sit there in silence for ages. And, like I said, she’d push me around a bit, but she wasn’t unkind.
Perhaps she was more complicated then even I had thought. It had been three years since I’d seen her. And even after three years I was the first person her mum called. Her brother too. Her poor mum. She was the kindest most caring person I’d ever known. I loved her so much, in a way more than Hannah. I was like her daughter, and we were closer than she and Hannah had ever been. She was so desperate. As soon as she’d heard my voice she had burst into tears. And I understood her. I could feel her pain.
When you care about someone so much, but they wont let you in, and you know you can’t help them, it kills you. You hate yourself. And it hurts. It hurts so much. It’s unbearable. You care about nothing else and it kind of eats at you. Ironic seeing as she wasn’t eating at all. I wanted to cut myself but I didn’t think it would help this time, there was no way to numb this kind of pain. It was a kind of love I guess, that you can’t hide. And it was so strong it hurt. Physically, mentally, every way there was. Everyone told me off for moping around at school. They’d ask what’s wrong but like they really cared. I couldn’t be bothered to explain. No one would understand anyway, just a waste of breath. None of them even if they tried to understand could help me or even say anything. They all went quiet and this annoyed me. So it was better not to say anything at all….