this story is about someone who has an addiction that involves cutting their wrists

I stand outside the wooden door and turn the knob ever so slightly.  It opens to a cold, dark room with a lamp on the dresser next to the bed.  My feet are bare and the floor is icey cold.  I walk over to the bed and sit down next to the stuffed rabbit given to me by my father.  As I look on the dresser I notice the object I stole from the kitchen while no one was looking.  Its a piece of metal, broken off of a tray.  It has two sharp, jagged edges and a smooth middle.  I pick it up. It is cold. Cold as ice.  I press the sharp end to the naked skin on my wrist and push down softly.  Then I see it.  All the anger, sadness, frustration, and confusion pouring out of my arm like a waterfall.  It tells me good-bye and then it leaves.  And suddenly, its over.  Its gone and I am happy once more. I can see tomorrow and I know it will be a good day. 

The End

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