I was dead.

I knew it the moment he left, taking everything that kept me alive with him. My happiness, joy, love, passion, strength, and my survival. Nothing matters anymore when you're dead, nothing.
All you can do is hope that maybe one day everything will be all right, and maybe all the pain you suffer will go away. But in the back of your mind you know it never will. You just have to learn to numb yourself and that maybe, just maybe, you'll make it through this hell someday.

When he left telling me he didn't want me and there was nothing I could do or say to make him change his mind was the day I knew nothing would ever be the same again. I would never hear his sweet, velvet voice beckoning me to him, telling me that he loved me. I would never see his inhumanly beautiful face; I would never look into his deep, topaz eyes that showed his love and concern for me.

I would never feel his stone, cold lips pressed against my soft warm lips in an embrace that no other person could comprehend. I would never hear the words I love you and I would never speak those three deathly words. Those three simple words were the ones that lead me to believe in such lies. Lies that said I could be loved and that I was loved. Lies that made me who I am today, though I consider my self no one.

So here I am, staring blankly at my baby blue walls with an emptiness inside me that only he can fill. My desire to live is hanging by a thread that is growing thinner and thinner by each passing day. The proof is on my body. Scars run along my wrists and my thighs speaking the words that I cannot say. How much pain and torture I truly am in. They really are beautiful, and only for my enjoyment.
Each time I make a new cut I hope and pray that it will be my last, that maybe this cut will be deeper than the others and kill me. I deserve to die anyways, im so disgusted with my self that I cannot even bear to look into the mirror without shattering it into tiny little pieces that resemble my blackened heart.
Everything in my life has gone down hill. Charlie told me today that he was going to take me to a mental hospital, to help me get over him. But he doesn't understand why I feel the way I do. He's never felt the love I've had and then had it taken away from him, shattering his world and his very existence. To have everything and then the very next moment have nothing.
I get up from the tile floors with goose bumps covering my entire body. When I walk it feels like I'm floating on air, almost as if I'm dreaming. Maybe I have been all along; I don't even pay attention to reality anymore. I've decided today will be my last. No more suffering, no more pain.

I almost smile at the thought, except I have forgotten how. I walk into the kitchen, its emptiness giving off an eerie feeling. I go to the drawer where the sharpest and biggest knife lays. I pick it up feeling as though its my most prized possession. It shimmers at me, almost as if it's smiling, encouraging me to use it for my last act. I ponder over whether I should leave a suicide note, but then realize that nothing needs to be said, everyone will know why I did it, my blood will be enough. I know where it will be done. I walk out the front door into the cold damp yard.

I walk the path that I walked with him months before. Unsurprisingly it's raining out, the droplets dampening me. Finally I'm here. I'm at the place where he broke me into a million little pieces. It's the place where I died emotionally and now am to die physically.

The rain is just a drizzle now, the droplets just barely scattering my face looking like tears. I'm ready for everything to be over, for me to be over. I hold the knife in my hand, its brilliance keeping me in awe. I pull my sleeve up, ready for the first cut to end my existence.

I put the tip to the very top of my wrist and inhale through my nose. I exhale and slash my wrist. Blood is all I see, trickling down my arm. My head starts to become dizzy so I breathe through my mouth instead. I pull the sleeve from my right arm up and slash through my other wrist.

The blood comes down even heavier than my other arm. It stings and hurts so bad, but its nothing compared to what I feel inside. I slump to the forest floor my head pounding like crazy. The blood keeps pouring out of me, pouring out all of my sadness, pain, hurt, anger and so many more emotions that have lead me to this moment. I know I'm dying because I suddenly feel happy and giddy.

Like all of my problems have gone away. I close my eyes, I feel like I'm on a high. I see his face, staring at me with love and compassion in his eyes. It's really him, I've never felt happier! I know I've never stopped loving him, he's all I need. I know he's not truly with me, but pretending makes things so much easier. I open my eyes again and his image is gone. No, I need him back!

I shut my eyes again, but still don't see his face. My breathing is becoming more ragged and my pulse is slowing down. I need you Edward, please come to me! I wish and pray with everything I've got. He never does come back though, I try to open my eyes but they don't seem to work. I can't even think anymore, nothing is comprehensible.

I start to feel extremely tired, and all of my energy is drained. I have one last thought before my heart stops beating. I hope Edward finds me; maybe he can taste my blood like he's always wanted.

At least I would've been good for something.

I love you Edward.

Then, my heart stops, all I see is black.

Darkness is the only thing that surrounds me.