Chapter 2 Yeah, I started in chapter two, that's right, if you're looking for a chapter 1. Realize that I was screwing with you, and I'm trying to express that not all chapters of my #life start in the beginning. So anyways, let's start this... The alarm clock rang at that same annoying rate it usually does. That constant beat, that when you listen to it long enough, you'll eventually allow the rhythm to seduce you back to slumber. I didn't let it do that this time. This time, out of all its years that it's been by my bedside, it has finally done it's job. I hit the top, silencing it with a bang. It was nippy, and I was shirtless. I had sweats under the moderately thick blanket, which warned my slumber well. I outstretched my arms and stared outside my window, waiting for the sun to burn the skys and heavens so that the world can finally be at play. I looked down at my arms. Rows of white lines were placed aimlessly across my arm, it seemed as if there were too many lines to count. Why were they there? I'd sometimes ask myself on the morning of my day, and the first hours of my wake. I was always reminded of the emotional pain that seemed to haunt me day after day and hour after hour. What made me want to cut? Was it the overwhelming sadness and grief that carried my every step? Or was it the need to feel punishment for every step I take? Anyhow or anyways, it didn't matter. If I ever figured it out, there would still be more lines across my arms, and knowing why they were there wouldn't mean shit.