Thoughts of a Almost Suicide

Something very personal about me:
I've had suicidal thoughts since Jr. High. I've been giving myself scars since I was little. I bury my emotions until something sets me off the deep end then I explode. Hate, rage, fear, death, and pain, so much pain, comes running out of me. Leaving myself weak and wanting for the sweet taste of death.

I hate it here. I say as I cut my left arm.

I want to leave. I watch the blood pool on my arm

Nobody care about me anymore. I cut my other arm

Everyone would love the silence. I watch the blood spill over my arm

Everyone would move on without much thought of me. I reach to the side of me and pick up a gun.

I wouldn't have to be laughed at anymore. I unlock the gun.

I wouldn't have to feel the pain and hurt at all. I place the gun under my chin.

I would be free from everything. I take a deep breath in to steady myself.

I wouldn't be able to see him anymore.  I move the gun away from my face.

I wouldn't be able to hear his laugh. I redo the safety lock

I wouldn't be able to see him smile again. I place the gun behind me.

I wouldn't be able to love him. I stand up.

I wouldn't be able to enjoy the little things. I walk over to the sink.

I wouldn't be able to laugh. I was away the blood, careful of the cuts.

I wouldn't be able to be in the rain. I smear antibiotics on it.

I wouldn't be able to see the snow. I tightly bandage the cuts.

I wouldn't be able to read. I place a towel over the blood spots.

I wouldn't be able to breath. I open the door.

I would miss everything. I clime into bed.

I would miss him. I close my eyes.

I would be alone. I drift off to sleep.

The End

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