every slice of the skin is words that cannot be said. Every scar is a rude word. This is something you can help… cut after cut. Slice after slice it’s practically everyday. All you do is were hoodies. Until you got a roommate, she came in and saw you in your hoodie and shorts as you stared at her with sad and tired eyes. You introduced yourself and it was like completely opposite. You were all dark and depressed while she was all light and amazing. You smiled softly before you went into your room… creating more lines.