Everyone was angry with me, everyone had hatred on me. Why?
Is it bad that I'm different? That I spoke my mid? That I loved certain things?
This is when they should all feel guilty. I slammed my bedroom door and locked. I knocking things off my desk as I look for my best friend. That little silver razor blade. I sat in the very corner of my room in the dark.
Pushing up my sleeves as a smile appeared on my face for the first time in a while. I pushed the blade against my screen as hard as I could. Pain striked me. I didn't care, I wanted to get this over and done with. Tears welled my eyes. I swipped back and forth on my arm. I wanted there to be so much evidence when they found me here.
Once my arms looked like I had been attacked by a shark, I held the small sharp blade to my face. I cut into my cheeks, my forehead and jawbone. Crimson blood dripped down from my long frinde. I planned this to be my big finish. The last time I would feel something. The last time I saw everything, let go of my emotions and say goodbye to myself. I stabbed the biggest vein I could see through the blood on my wrist before holding the blade to my neck and slitting it.
Blood sprayed all over the walls.
I felt myself slip away.
Death felt better than anything I had done.