Hole in my SweaterMature

It's a few days into this battle when I realize I can't do this. 

I can't.

So I go to my room and sit. I sit and make that hole bigger and bigger, as the waves of self-condemnation roll over me. 

I am stupid.

I am unlovable.

I am disgusting.

I am broken. 

So I take what tools I have and try to repair myself. I think that if I can hide the pain better, I will be better. 

But this only makes me breaks me further.

So I put on my sweater with the hole that everyone can see and go out into the cold. There's snow on the ground and a bridge that's not that far away. I stand on the bridge, feeling isolated and filled with despair. My breath fill the air and I think of what my matter just stole from the earth. Precious oxygen that this worthless body took. 

The snow crunches beneath me and it's only then I realize that I neglected to wear any shoes. I look down and see that I have left of a trail of blood that flows from my wrists. It marks the path like a dying animal, and I start to feel faint. It doesn't matter, it won't matter in a minute. 

I climb onto the ledge of the bridge and take a breath. I don't look down though I know that beneath me rages a mixture of ice and water. 

Here I am free. Here is where my family and friends will stop needing to look after me and I will be rid of the thoughts that consume me. Here is where I will no longer have to live with the person I have become, the person I despise with every depth of my being.

Shoving my hands into my pockets one last time, I put my hand through the hole and hazily close my eyes. I feel as my body succumbs to gravity and I spiral downward. The last thing I remember thinking is that

Everything is so cold. 

The End

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