Critique this for me please?

Please give me your opinion on this

I watch as the beautiful furious red beads form on my skin. They show me what I can not show myself. What I silently can not show others. I put my 鈥渢hings鈥?away in a beautifully knit clutch purse. Making sure I had my little secret one more time. Making sure no one knows anything as I keep my secret closed up in myself.

My face is tear stained and sticky. Right now I yearn to have a kiss with death. To just end what can not blossom. Can not grow. There is no point in living in a world where no one listens. No one cares and everyone stays blind to the truths hidden beneath the surface. I look down at my skin. The canvas I use to show silently what I can not. The small shallow little red marks tell a story. A story of my beginning and my end that will always be.

I look away and stare into the grimy little square mirror. I see my face. My plain brown hair my boring features drowned with melted black eyeliner. I look away. Not even my own room is my haven of safety anymore. The only safety I posses to me is a small shiny object. I sulk down to the ground. I can hear through the thin walls as my unconventional mother waits hand and foot on my newly becoming step father. Oh how I am cornered in this hell. How to escape? I know not.

I tightly pull up my grudy black converse. I fix my makeup and start the day all over again. I wonder if today the girl I call my best friend will stay un-noticed. If the entire world will just stay un-noticed while I countdown the days forthcoming silently to myself. The day I will welcome with open arms.

I walk through the heavy metal doors. I see people talking, smiling, laughing with their friends. All ready awaiting the grueling school day. As I walk down the hall I see Becca and Carli standing there with their boyfriends. We use to be best friends but over the months we鈥檝e grown apart. My newly found 鈥渟tyle鈥?isn鈥檛 exactly the same as theirs. I walk past them faking a warming smile. But I feel it turned out cold. I walk into the stuffy hot room. The heat surrounds me like a warm blanket. I feel nauseated.

Critique this for me please?

Woah, thats good

:D

I think i have an idea what its about.

but you should totally finish the story

Critique this for me please?

I've got a website you can put that on. It's called worthyofpublishing.com. Published authors use that site to market their books, so you could get professional feedback. I just started that site yesterday under the penname of Skye Jules. The owners of the site have special connections, and if it gets good enough ratings, you might be lucky enough to be looked at through the eyes of a genuine publisher.

Critique this for me please?

Sounds really good! You should definitely keep writing.

Critique this for me please?

Wow! Excellent work! The one thing that doesn't work is the heat surrounds "like a warm blanket." Somehow that phrase doesn't fit. It's too simplistic and cliche for the rest of your writing style. (Just my opinion.)

Critique this for me please?

I can tell you're a good writer. You definitely have a way with words. Frankly, though, cutting is overdone and the story is already predictable. If you truly must write about cutting, try coming at it from a completely different angle. Because, for most people, another story about an angsty teenager who doesn't fit in, has no friends, and who doesn't get along with her parents will just turn most people off.