Tourniquet

style=\"width: 300px; height: 100px;\"> 

~*~Tourniquet~*~

Thinking to myself, I wonder what
if I was dead?  The meaning
of
life, don\'t you think it has to be death?  I can feel the tears
bunch
up in my eyes, but I push what I can away and try and empty my
head. 
All I ever wanted was to know that you repeated my feelings.  But
. . . I suppose luck really is a rare thing.  Or maybe everyone is
given a jar full of it, and some spend it too fast, before they really
need it, you know?   My arm is burning again, a feeling I
often
get when I feel the need to cut myself.  It\'s not that I feel it
gives
me a feeling of hurting those who have hurt me, just a feeling that at
least I have power over something.  And why shouldn\'t I have power
over my own death?  I have power over everything else I do in
life. 
Besides, the


blade feels good on my skin.

Pulling the meat knife out from
under my mattress I ran it over my
cheek,
than down my shoulder to dig a deep line down the lower half of my
arm. 
Frowning at the pain I felt I stared down at the blood that was now
dripping
off of my arm on to the bed.  Why am I so weak?  In any and
all
ways, why am I so weak?

I hate myself for being so
weak.  And I hate everyone else for
being so strong, in everyway, I hate them.  Except you, for
whatever
strange reason I praise you.  But I hurt you at the same time, I
know
it. And I want to die.  I want to die right now as I think. 
There are tons of ways I could kill myself that run through my head,
only
a few am I actually able to pull off with what I have.  I know
you\'re
just as depressed as me, and I couldn\'t count how many times I\'ve
thought
of us killing ourselves together.  I wonder if that would disgust
you, that I would want something so personal from you.

I wonder if you even think of me
unless I\'m standing there right in
front of you.  I’d like to think you do, but a voice in my head
reminds
me you wouldn’t, someone as strong as you wouldn’t want to be thinking
of me.

I\'ve tried to be strong though,
but I seem to fail miserably each
time,
you know?

Maybe it\'s because I have such
strong trust issues.  But trust
is a fragile thing, hard enough to make, most likely broken many times
in the process, and even harder to maintain.  But I\'ve tried to
let
people, haven\'t I?  They just tend not to put it back together
once
broken a few times.  But what kind of a life is it, if it has no
pain,
and what kind of life is it when you have no comfort.  Joy is a
rare
coin, a coin that seems to have become brittle and cracked.  I
wonder,
will we find the coin; walking up to it; but when we reach for it, will
it shatter?

Has my mind shattered?  Have
I finally pushed myself too
far? 
I know I\'ve always tried so hard to be good enough for people to be
able
to say that I was good at something.  And yet when I look at
something
I’ve done I know it’s crap, but someone else might see it and say it’s
wonderful, but that just seems to hurt me more.  Especially when
you
say it to me.

And I lie, I lie straight to
you\'re face, I lie to myself, lie to
everyone
around me.  And I hurt myself even more.  Maybe if I just
stop,
stop everything I do, I won\'t hurt anymore.  No, because the past
will become my future.  Living in the past hurts, living in the
future
is even more painful, because you don\'t know, and living in the
present,
is sad, seeing everything going on around you, and never taking any of
it in.

My arm is stinging, burning in a
way, I want to find a rope and hang
myself.  I want you to notice.  But at the same time I want
you
to look away.

I can’t handle people caring so
much about me I can’t handle them
wanting
to help me, being so nice.  I always end up pushing them away,
hurting
them so as to stop me from hurting myself more.  But that never
works
it just adds more pain, knowing I  hurt you and myself.  But
I\'ve tried so hard not to hurt you like that, years it\'s lasted, but
I\'m
becoming paranoid, I\'m becoming scared.  I can\'t handle all of
this
and everything is becoming static in my mind.  I suppose I should
go to the bathroom and tend to my arm, but I don\'t feel like it right
now. 
The blood has already seeped under my body, through the blankets.

It\'s strange to see you\'re own
blood, there\'s so much.  Who
would
have known I could bleed so much?  This is the deepest cut I\'ve
ever
done.  Do you suppose that maybe I really will die now?  You
asked me something today, saying I looked depressed.  Were you
worried,
I wonder?  Scared maybe?  I lied to you saying I was just
tired. 
I wonder if tomorrow, if I\'m


not there at school with you, will you be sad?  I don\'t want to
hurt you, I really don\'t, but I suppose that\'s inevitable now, isn\'t
it.

I\'m tired now, I think I\'ll
sleep.  Yeah, sleep sounds good.

Did you know?  Blood is warm,
funny, huh?

 

src=\"home.JPG\" style=\"border: 0px solid ; width: 50px; height: 25px;\">

href=\"http//www.duoism.net/Fanfiction/index.html\"> src=\"fics.JPG\" style=\"border: 0px solid ; width: 50px; height: 25px;\"> href=\"http://www.duoism.net/Fanfiction/forever01n02/Tourniquet/\"> alt=\"\" src=\"back.JPG\"
style=\"border: 0px solid ; width: 50px; height: 25px;\"> href=\"http://www.duoism.net/Fanfiction/forever01n02/Tourniquet/Tourniquet02.html\"> alt=\"\" src=\"next.JPG\"
style=\"border: 0px solid ; width: 50px; height: 25px;\">