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anymore. Not honestly. Sometimes she faked it. But that didn’t count. Not to her.
    When she finally made it inside her room, she slammed the door closed behind her. There wasn’t anyone around to hear, no one to be offended or yell about the noise, so, like the backpack, it felt good to allow a little release.
    After slamming the door, Meagan flopped down onto her bed.
    What a horrible, boring, nothing of a day she needed to forget.
    ****
    Meagan knew how to forget. It worked for almost anything. It had been a few days since she’d cut, but today she needed it again.
    She felt like she was on the brink of exploding, like she was about to fall from a cliff, and the only way to save herself from dying was to hurt herself, but only a little. Always just a little. The realignment of control would be good, needed even. It would allow Meagan to be in charge of her surroundings, her circumstances, her future.
    If she didn’t do something small to feel better, she knew she would spiral out of control to a place she couldn’t get back from.
    So Meagan propped herself up on her elbows. Once the decision was made, her nerves danced around. Adrenaline surged up high. Suddenly she wasn’t as tired as she had been while stumbling into the house.
    Meagan didn’t want to use anything this time. No sharp objects, no pins, no knives. She had a lot going on, and she didn’t need to cause herself even more problems with this temporary fix.
    She scratched her fingernails along sensitive skin while listening to music and mentally preparing herself. The sounds and lyrics flowed through her. Her head floated up and away as her arm started to tingle. She was close, but still she hesitated.
    The pain scared her or, rather, more the thought of the pain.
    On the other hand, she wondered if, in the moment, she wouldn’t feel enough and end up making a real scar that lasted longer and hurt more. She didn’t want to hurt any more than she already did. That would defeat her purpose.
    It was the exact opposite of her intention.
    And the emotional pain that lingered scared her even more than any physical. Sometimes she wondered if she was screwing herself up more than the depression she was trying to fight through.
    Probably, since she couldn’t do anything right anyway.
    But Meagan was only trying to help herself, to control what she could.
    So in she dug with her nails. She’d had enough anticipation. Enough thinking. She just needed to feel. She made dozens of little crescent moons with her pointer and middle fingernails. Each puffed up and stung.
    But each was little. Each was able to hide.
    Each made her feel a little bit better.
    She heard footsteps coming down the hall. Her younger sister was home, but hopefully she was heading to the living room to watch television. But she wasn’t, and as Meagan’s door swung open, her heart jumped into her mouth. She flung her comforter over her arm and whipped her head to the open door.
    â€œWhat do you want?” s he yelled sharply at Sapphire. She knew she shouldn’t, yet she did regardless.
    â€œSorry. I-I forgot to knock. I just wanted to do something. I’m bored.”
    Her guilt bubbled up in her stomach. Her sister just wanted to spend time with her. How horrible of a sister could Meagan be?
    â€œSure. Just give me a couple minutes. I need to finish my homework.” And she lied to top it all off.
    â€œOkay, great!”
    Meagan tried not to cry as her sister closed her bedroom door.
    She tried, but she failed.

I’m Sick Of Lies

    A little lie here
    A little lie there
    I ask what’s wrong
    And lies are all I hear
    Nothing’s wrong you say
    Then why do you cry
    Day after day
    And why do I cry too
    Why do we lie
    Why can’t we trust someone
    And let them in
    We’d feel better
    But I know I can’t
    And that’s just how it is

Searching

    I’m looking for something
    I don’t know how to find
    I’m