A wind blows across your face, leaving a itch on your nose.
You reach up to scratch it, but your arm doesn't move.
You look down only to see your skin is made of glass.
You panic, and suddenly feel out of breath.
Taking shallow breaths you begin to worry.
You know that the slightest movement will cause you to shatter into pieces
The wind continues, making your itch worse.
You know your going to sneeze, but what can you do?
Then it happens, your body brakes into pieces, but the pain never comes though, why?
Because you woke up.
You remember a summer as a little kid, playing hide and go seek with your parents.
You decide to go hide in the barn.
Hiding behind the haystack there you wait.
Sometime later, the stale smell of hay is replaced by a rancid sticky smell that you remember but can't place.
When you emerge, you've discovered your parents laying across the barn floor.
Their throats have been ripped out.
You scream and try to run.
But it's to late, they rise and bring you into their dark embrace.
Then you wait for the inevitable, for the pain of the teeth sinking into you skin.
But it never came, you know why?
Because you woke up.
One day you look into the mirror, sadness and frustration pour out of you eyes.
You want it all to go away.
And yet you find yourself thinking of everyone around you, your friends who care about.
And somehow I'm put into the mix, mabye it's because deep down you could possible know that I love you.
Then with an anger you rip your wrists apart with your nails.
Locking your bathroom door, you whisper something.
It sounded like “I'm sorry”
Then you get in your tub of ice water.
An hour later your still there, your cloths stained by your own blood.
The tub doesn't seem to be full of water anymore…
You wait for the hypothermia, but it never came.
You know why?
Because you died forty-five minutes ago from blood loss.
So, if anyone knows the answer, how can you survive depression and abuse, but not yourself?