NOT ENOUGH

How many times can a person fall apart before there's nothing left to break?.

I stare at the bathroom mirror as the question sinks inside my thought for a moment before i heard the bell rings-rings loudly inside my ear

I gently steps outside the bathroom, i see a bunch of student walking towards their class

for a moment I hesitated before i actually stepped out and started walking in the hallway towards my class, i looked around-And for a moment, I could hear their voices, their giggles, and their stare and.. for a moment my brains thought these students were making fun of me...

I quickly turned my head down, staring at the floor as my footsteps echoed inside my ear, heavier than they should be. My chest tightens, and I try to control my breathing but it just makes it worse. The hallway feels longer with every step I take.

I wanted to disappear. Just vanish so I didn't have to feel the weight of all these eyes that might not even be looking at me... but my head keeps telling me they are. My hand slightly shakes as I grip my bag harder, trying to remind myself that it's only in my head, that I'm just... overthinking again.

But if it's only in my head, why does it hurt this much?

I quietly sits down to my chair, i sit alone at the back.. no one really notice me sometimes not even the teacher..

class started.. as the teacher lectures, i can't seems to focus

why am i feeling this way?

for a moment my arm itches..

I dig my nails lightly against the skin, pretending it's just a habit. But it isn't. It never is. The itch crawls deeper, a restlessness under my flesh that no scratching can reach.

My eyes blur on the whiteboard, the words melting into nothing. Everyone else looks fine... pens moving, heads nodding. I wonder if anyone can hear the noise in my head, the static that won't shut up.

I shift in my seat, sleeve tugged down further. I don't want anyone to notice. Not the teacher, not the students. Especially not myself.

I whisper inside my mind... Just get through this hour. Just get through today.

But the itch lingers. The thought lingers.

After finishing my note I immediately ask if I can go to the restroom for a moment

The itch seems so unbearable that I secretly pockets the tiny blade from my pencil sharpener before going to the restroom

There I hide to the last bathroom stall

My hand was shaking as I locks the door...

There I slowly guide the tiny blade into my inner arm, the tiny blade pressing lightly into it

My hand was shaking..

Disaster hits as the blade glide through, cutting my inner arm, blood flows dripping to the floor before I could clean the mess up

For a moment I panicked...

I quickly grab the toilet paper and try to clean up the mess

I hope no one saw it-I thought as my hand trembled while dabbing a bunch tissue into my scars

After the bleeding seems to had ended... I quickly dispose all the blood stained tissue on the trash can beside me, but... Even after disposing the evidence-The faint iron smell seems to linger in my nose

A feeling I can't explain... it crawls beneath my skin, both heavy and hollow. My hands tremble, not from the sting, but from something deeper-something I don't dare name. The silence in the room feels louder than any scream, pressing against my ears, demanding that I acknowledge it.

I stare down at my fingers, the faint crimson still etched into the lines of my palm, and for a moment, it feels like the world has stopped breathing with me. A secret only I know, a weight I can't cast away no matter how many tissues I throw, no matter how much I scrub.

And yet... somewhere in that emptiness, there's a strange, twisted comfort.

Until the silence ask for more...