Words.. Just words?

I sat and read the screen in front of me, again and again. This was the fourth time. Tears were streaming down my face by now and they had been for the past ten minutes, but I couldn't stop reading. Each word hit me even harder than the last and every time I read those words again, they sank even deeper into me than they had done the time before. I couldn't understand it and I laughed to myself because of what some people would think if they saw me in the state I was in. How could something have touched me so deeply? It was as if these words had been written for, or by me, because for as long as I could remember, that was exactly how I had felt.

What I had read before that was some of the writing by a little girl - younger than myself at times and I found it so hard not to cry, because, we were decades apart, over forty years, and yet it was as if we were just the same. I'd read poetry and stuff before, lots of it, Sylvia Plath for example, but none of her writing had ever bought any amount of emotion out in me, not to that extent anyway. This was different. They weren't just words to me. I knew that.

The bar in the margin reached the bottom of the page and I dragged it back to the top again, embedding myself once more into the words of someone who I felt I knew as though I'd known her all my life. I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my grey cardy, it was stained black from the mascara and eye liner that had ran into an inky mess. Not only was I crying for me, but also for the little girl inside those lines... A little girl with a wonderful voice that only her paper could hear. The strange thing is, how come I could hear it so clearly and feel it so strongly now? I had waited for someone or something to relate to for a long time, I'd wanted someone to tell me that I wasn't on my own in a world of harsh judgement and the questioning that I used to submit myself to. All the whys? and the how’s? and the what have I done wrongs? I needed someone to let me know, somehow, that they had found somewhere to go where we would be safe and that's what the little girl gave me in her words... And in the little girl herself, I found a friend.

Chapter 1

I sat in the bath, the water’s warmth was long gone and my fingers were wrinkled at the tips. The draught from the open window behind me made the air even colder. I shivered as the droplets of water from my damp hair trickled down my spine, I was freezing, but didn’t care, because as long as I was cold, I was numb. I splashed my face to rid my cheeks of the lingering tears, but they were soon replaced with new ones when I broke down again, asking myself why everyone hated me. It was something I never knew the answer to and I guess, something that I never really wanted to know. But I had my own reasons to hate. Reasons that they would never find!

I pulled the plug from the bath and watched the level of the water fall, exposing the rest of my body to the coldness around me. My shaking hand turned the hot tap on full and then the plug was replaced. I could feel the temperature changing, from cold to warm and warm to hot, but it was never too hot, it couldn’t be too hot. Steam rose from the tub and the water was scorching, it made my skin tingle from my toes, right up to my chest. Whenever I moved, the tingling came in jolts through that part of me, but it wasn’t painful, simply the realisation that I was human. I could feel. The bath was nearly full so the tap was turned off again. No cold water was needed, not for me.

I looked at my thighs, and wasn’t surprised to see that the paleness of my skin had disappeared, they were red raw, along with the rest of me except for my face. Even the veins on my hands stuck out a mile from the heat and I could feel the blood pulsing through my head, as though I might explode. I felt dizzy and panicked a little - for a second, but a glance in one of the mirrors that were a constant reminder of who I had become, was enough to make me crave what I was doing even more.

And then, it struck me. The razor on the side of the bath caught my eye�?Oh yes, this was it. My heart pounded - It was wrong, I shouldn’t do it, but I took it in my hand anyway and began to press it on my arm, twisting as I went. It hurt more than the last time, even though the cuts were minute. The feeling made me clench my fists, trying not to scream out loud that pain was what I needed. Real pain. I smiled when I saw the crimson droplets reach the surface. Maybe I was crazy then.

I couldn’t explain the feeling that it gave me, when the thought first entered my head I was scared, I couldn’t hurt myself, what if people saw and asked questions about it? What would I do then?

But, after the first stroke of imperfection on the part of me that protected everyone else from what was beneath, I wasn’t really bothered. It was an urge, something with such power that it felt so wrong but so right at the same time. I felt that I deserved it, I needed it and it was what everyone else had given to me, but in different forms. For years, and I mean years - ever since being a child, I had been made to feel as though I was not quite enough to be part of something that was worth being part of. I’d always wanted what I could never have, or was the last to get what everyone else had already got. Now it was my time to be in control. I could say what I did and how I did it and there was no one else to stop me or tell me any different.

I was fed up of being the one who people looked down upon, as though they were better than me. I didn’t want to feel stupid anymore. I wanted people to see me for all that I had tried to be, not what they thought I was, or would never achieve.

"Jesus, you stupid fuck, what do you think you’re looking at?" I spat in the mirror. "No wonder they hate you! Look at the state of you!"

I leant back in the bath - the water swilling over my skin. As I closed my eyes I could see them again. Their voices rang loud and clear in my head "FREAK!" they yelled, "oh my god look at her!"

I cried again. "However did it come to this?"

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Hiya everyone, this is the beginning of my next book. Obviously it's not a poem lol, but I posted it on here because I would really appreciate some feedback seeing as the first couple of chapters are the most vital for the process of the story, as they are the ones which can draw the readers in. What do you guys think to this? Would like to know what you think, any critism is welcome. Thanks for reading. Lv, Fluff. Ive posted it on to here so that it can stay here for longer. Hehe.

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p.s As I continue to write it, I will carry on posting it if others would like me to. Thanks again. Fluff.