Fighting an Eternal War

  You're in a tunnel that winds around and around and it never seems to end. You lose all hope when trying to get out of it. There is no light at the end of this tunnel. Death's hands strangel your heart telling you to just let go, telling you nothing matters anymore and that no one cares. The box you're sitting in is crammed with every emotion of the world and that one tiny space,a nd you feel as though no one is there for you. All it really is: A knife and a solidier fighting an eternal war. It's YOU fighting yourself.
  The weight of the world suffocated me and I couldn't handle anything. I knew I had a problem, but I wasn't bound to get rid o fit. I enjoyed the rush of etting high with my friends, drinking at parites, and being defiant. I didn't just like it. Il oved it. I lived for it, and it was all I felt I had. Until I found something else that gave me a new rush. I found self infliction. I didn't know that night I just found a new battle that would literally scar me for the rest of my life, but also teach me a huge lesson about life. I found a razorblade and just let myself go. I heard my friend talking about it, and how they couldn't stop, or how they hoped no one found out. I always helped them through it constantly hearing, "It helps the pain." The one day I couldn't help them anymore, because I was becoming them I couldn't even help myself.
  I ended up having to move away from the school I called home, from the friends I called family and from the first place I found a stable home in my life. I didn't eat for weeks and became weak and brittle. Nothing mattered to me. I felt as though I couldn't ever go on now for I had no one there, no where to go, and no reason to be anywhere else but there. I started school again, and I noticed I was differnt from everyone. I wasn't a "believer" like they were, I wasn't quite peppy, like they were, I was unusual, unlike they were. Then I met the one soul who need me just as much as I needed him. We became friends and one day he found my problem. His eyes were hollow and full of tears when he saw my arms looked like rail road tracks. I told him I couldn't stop, it was all I had, and it was kept me going. He wouldn't listen, telling me it would keep me going and dying if I did'nt stop. I pushed him away thinking he'd never understand. I kept doing drugs, drinking and having that "wonderful" party life I thought was such a riot. Then I got in trouble. I hurt people close to me, but in the end, truthfully, I didn't care. Then were I was again, keeping steady with th cuts, the drugs and the parties. Till the day I felt him sleeping away from me.
  I couldn't understand why we were talking less and less. Why kept turning his head away when I wanted to say "hi." Then I looked at myself in the mirror with a bag of pot in one pocket, and the cuts on my arms and whispered, "It's me." I told him I need him more then ever for me to stop. I said I would do everything in my power, if he didn't stop loving me, to stop. I took me a year to realy stop, to reach full recovery, and to beat my depression. A year that was the hardest to cope with, but somewhat easier then the rest. It opened my eyes to so much more, and found myself out of the tunnel with no ending.
  So here this soldier stands. Writing you this story, typing it out, drop by drop. It's a tornado ripping through your body, and when it finally stops you see exactly how much damage it does to not only you, but everyone around you who loves and cherishes you. the path of destruction left of me is starting to sprout to new growth; new hope. I am slowly becoming my own best friend. Life still has its hardedges but I will make it.