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I did it.

And not accidentally this time.

I used scissors, because it seemed safer. Not so sharp that I’d accidentally cut too deep.

It’s not like I’m trying to kill myself. But if I cut too deep and had to get stitches, that’s what they would all assume. That I’m depressed. That I wanna die.

But I don’t.

Sure, I’m sad sometimes. Who isn’t? But this isn’t about that…

I don’t know what it’s about really.

I just know I want this feeling to go away…this feeling like there’s something wrong with me, rotting me from the inside out. It feels…powerful to do something about it, rather than just keep it all in. This is me taking action against it, so I don’t have to put that burden on anyone else.

They’re already burdened enough as it is.

Dad has a pack of thin razor blades in his cabinet.

When he and Mom leave for dinner tonight, I plan to sneak in there and take one, just to have, just to keep, just in case.

The scissors didn’t work well.

There’s a scratch mark, but I didn’t even break enough skin to draw blood.

Seems pretty pointless to go through all this trouble if I don’t…release anything.

Give something…

Like a sacrifice.

What’s a little blood for some peace?

I don’t talkto my sister for three days.

She tried apologizing later that night. She snuck away from her slumber party and into my room, and crawled into my bed. I rolled away from her, and threw the covers over my head, pretending I was asleep, even though we both knew I wasn’t.

It didn’t stop her from talking, from hugging me, from telling me she loves me no matter what.

“I went about this all wrong,”she told me.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“I really did think it would help,”she whispered, her voice breaking.

And all I could wonder was, How? How could you possibly be so selfish and stupid to think that would help me?

But instead of saying that, I just bit my lip hard enough to taste iron.

“Mason’s mad at me too,” she’d said, and I wanted to hit her.

Of course he was mad. She made him kiss a boy. Not just a boy, but his best friend. His girlfriend’s brother.

Everything’s ruined now, thanks to her.

Nothing was ever gonna be the same again.

“I’m so sorry.”

Again and again and again, she’d say this for days, giving me that big pout of hers anytime we made eye contact when we ran into each other. Until on day three, I finally caved, because staying mad at Izzy for any longer is next to impossible.

How could I, when we live under the same roof?

How could I, when I know how sorry she really is?

My twin superpowers are weak, but they’re there. And her sadness—her guilt—has gotten so loud, it can no longer be ignored, not even by me.

The big ice cream sundae she made for me might’ve helped too.

I don’t seeor talk to Mason for a whole week.

When I do finally see him, he’s grinning and waving the newest volume of Ultimate X-Men in my face—the one we’d been waiting all summer for.

We never talk about the kiss.

Things go back to exactly the way they were, as if it never happened.

And I realize I was wrong—nothing was ruined.

On the surface, everything is as it should be.

I should be relieved.

I should be grateful.

I should be thanking my lucky stars.

And yet…

Why am I so sad?