It worked, for a while. Physical pain was the only thing that occurred when I sliced my arms- the mental pain and things I was thinking always seemed ...o fade away in those moments. I guess I became a Goth gradually, but it was unplanned. I used to be at least accepted in society before my mum was killed. Goths in the part of London I was brought up in was simply not allowed. No, I should not use the word allowed, it was thought of as horrifying. People around here thought and still think all. AndI knew I was in trouble - again - when I saw that mom was still up.As usual, she was drunk, and in a bad mood. "What are ya doing comin'in at all hours?" she slurred, "You'ra gro'nded fer a week!" shesaid."Fuck you!" I said. "Fuck you, you drunk!" Then I thought, why not?"Yeah, mom," I started moving in on her, "Fuck you. You wanna fuckme like we did before?" I could see she remembered, "No, shtay awayfrom me, John" she said as she backed away. But I leaped at her, andslapped her, making. More

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