The girl with a story written in scars.

She searches frantically. Looking through boxes and drawers. She looks as if she hasn't slept for days. Her hair is a mess, her make-up is smeared. Mascara runs with the tears she cries of pain, hurt, and sorrow. Does any one understand? She isn't searching for a friend, her favorite stuffed animal or movie. She's searching for the blade that takes it all away.That's all she knows to be the cure of the emotional destruction she has faced. Her father tries to control her. Her mother martyrs her. She will never get out. It's a never ending cycle. So she turns to that blade. That blade is her best friend. She feels she has nowhere to turn other than to her blade. Everyone hates that she has chosen that coping skill, but do they really understand? Do they feel the pain that she does? Do they live everyday in the body and life that she does? Do they know what there are talking about when they tell her that's not the answer? When she's tried everything else and nothing seems to completely cure this but her blade..Oh, her blade, it relives the pain for a while. Almost long enough..but then she has to try again. To get rid of the pain. Again and again until there is no more room. Now she's all scared up. She'll have a story to tell, if she ever gets out of this mess. But while she's in this captivity, things just don't look so bright for her. We will all say that we will pray for her. But will we really? or will we just think that's useless? Will we just forget about it until it really matters, when you see in the paper that she died. maybe then you will take back all the things you said. The way you judged her for her decisions. When instead, all she needed was someone to talk to who wouldn't judge her, who wouldn't tell her that everything she says is wrong, everything she does is wrong, that she can't do anything right. All she needed was a friend, a true friend. But no one could provide that, everyone fails her. EVERYONE but people are only human, that's why she trusts no one. She relies on no one. Some may say she's wrong for that, but who else is she to rely on? Some may say she has a hole she needs to fill. But where's that hole? What should be there? A person maybe? Something spiritual? What is supposed to be in this "hole" everyone is talking about? She won't ever find out. No one will think about her after the funeral. To them she's dead and gone and she didn't matter before. She doesn't matter now. 8 people went to her funeral. Some people who were close to her. a few relatives. Her parents didn't go. The went to Florida instead. They didn't care. Poor girl. I hope she can't see her funeral from where ever she ended up. She'd be disappointed. She would think her parents would feel remorseful. But she thought wrong. Once again another thing she did that wasn't right.

So, You've got "it" too?

depression is loving someone with nothing in return, depression is slowly living instead of jumping head first, depression is acknowledging the mistake but without learning, depression is not trying, giving into your life's curse. depression is cutting and cutting thinking you cant stop, depression is staying quiet thinking no-one will care, depression is floating around with the desire to drop, depression is ignoring the people who always seem to be there. depression is trying to end the life you've been given, depression is watching other people watch you, depression is giving up instead of being hard driven, depression is depression, do you feel it too?

Ronald G Smith: Gone, but never forgotten.

It's the day before Grandpa's viewing. He died  March 1, 2012 at St. johns nursing home. As I lay here in my bed, I think about all that's happening around me. I think to myself, "How can this be? He's not dead, I just talked to him the other day." I looked at the calender that they have in each patients room that has the days activities on it. It said at 10 am Nails. So I laughed and asked him if he got his nails done. he laughed a little and said no.I asked if he was a party pooper. He said Yup I'm a party pooper. We talked about what he had for breakfast but he couldn't remember what he ate for lunch...this was just the day before he died. It can't be his body we are burring on Monday. It can't be. It's just not possible. It's not! I just saw him! I just talked to him! He was doing so much better. He was actually eating and talking and holding conversations with people. He was getting so much better. There is no way this is happening. Is everyone just lying to me? or is this just a horrible nightmare? Because this can't be real! My Grandpa can't be dead! It's just not possible!