MuchlyMe

I loved the smell of salt air, the wind whipping across my face. I love walking along the beach, wearing nothing but a sweatshirt and my jeans rolled up to my knees. Kicking my way through waves with no real destination, just walking. I do my best thinking at this time, early in the morning when no one is around. The beach is washed clean every night by the waves. I always thought it might be nice to be washed like that, not to have to worry about my past; it would have been washed away. Now I'm fresh and clean with a new chance. The more I analyze it however, the less I like the idea. That's the problem with thinking, the more you think ab

Talking, I swear that's all any one cares about. No one noticed me before, but now that I have receded so far back inside myself, suddenly my muteness is a problem. I wanted to talk before but they blew me off, they lost their chance. I am beyond talking; there is no turning back. There's nothing left of me worth discussing anyway. Maybe if someone had cared 6 months ago I could have been saved, but they didn't. No one has ever cared. I find myself in this position often. I hate it yet, run home from school to get here. To be sitting here on my bed, to run a razor blade from my wrist to elbow. Watching the blood pool and spill; careful not