My name is Marina. 19 years old. Professional Makeup Artist. Drifting in the wind, taking people with me.
Avenged Sevenfold. Asking Alexandria. Supernatural. Tattoos. Piercings. Fantasy Makeup. Food. Art. Interior Design. Metal. Pokemon. Unicorns. Vintage cars. Synyster Gates. Stretchers. Parkour.
There are so many moments when you sit down and think ‘Will I ever get rid of this pain?’ ’ Will I ever be truly happy?’ ‘Or will I vanish and survive only in the slowly fading memories of those I have shared myself with?’
You’ll never know. And that’s why it’s so hard to go on. Because though you smile at people with a glimmer in your eyes they will never know that the glimmer is just a reflection from the knife you carry inside you just incase you can’t find the power in yourself anymore.
You can stand on a stage talking to a thousand people, all eyes on you, but if you see one seat, just the one, empty where the one person you planned your whole goddamned life for isn’t sitting, you use that knife. You use it to slice yourself apart from the inside. You destroy everything people can’t see because you have to make an example. You can’t let them know your crazy.
One more slice. One more is all it will take. One more and I’m just a pile on the floor.