Hey. I know I've been struggling with updates, and it has to do with depression. I'm kinda upset right now, and this is kind of the only way to keep from hurting myself. It's also a new direction in approaching some of my writing. I'll update everything else as soon as I'm feeling better.
I stared at my clock in my bedroom, covers pulled up to my chin. It was three in the morning. As I sat up, I quietly slipped a small knife out from under my mattress and turned my light on. As I pulled the sleeve of my shirt up, I listened to the quiet house, listening to see if someone woke up. No movement. Perfect. I held the knife to my wrist, over the scars from past cuts, and dug into my skin with the blade, crimson blood coming from the wound. I ripped it across my wrist and lifted the knife, digging the knife in over my artery. Blood spurt painfully from the wound and I placed my hand over it, putting pressure on it. Damn. If I wasn't careful, I was sure to kill myself. That's not what I wanted. Not yet. I moved on further up my arm until I felt satisfied. Blood rolled down my arm to my fingertips and dripped onto the soft blue carpet. That was enough for tonight. I slid the knife back under my mattress and rolled my sleeve back down. As I laid back down and turned off the light, I heard clawing at my closed door. Blair. Of course it was her. I rolled over and ignored the cat, determined to get to sleep.