The pain had become too much.

I had been too afraid to say it, but inside me was complete shreds. Tatters that were not worth the time I had wasted, the pain she had caused me without any concern.

Each reach and every step took me closer to my relief, to having relief at last. Relief that would replace the hallow shell of a person that I had become.

What they say is true, 'The first cut is the deepest', but each cut after seemed to drag deeper and deeper until there was nothing left of me to tear. I just kept bleeding out.

I tried hard not to blame her for what I had become - she didn't love me in the same way I loved her. But all the apologies and excuses she had made for the false hope that had started to grow for any sort of 'us' I had felt forming, wouldn't, and couldn't, close that first cut. It was too deep, set below my stomach. It would never heal; the wound that ached with every memory, every thought of her. Of what we could have been.

I could only blame myself for letting me need her like I need the air I breathe. How poetic it was, then, that I would be ending my pain with the same kind of pain that drove me to even think about ending anything at all. I thought about all this as I dragged the razor through my stomach, right at the place that had been hurting me for months. Deeper and deeper I drove it in, just wanting this to be over.

I approached my anticipated end; letting the ice cold wind I had been longing for whip across my face atop that cliff. Again…my memories swirled around inside my head, focusing on her. I had to stop…I had to focus. This was it. The seemingly endless dull, gray sky stretched out before me. The unrelenting sea embraced me. For the first time in a long time, I felt wanted, and for this, I was grateful.

I could feel that cut widening, as if to let the last of my sanity escape into the madness of the current around me. Here and now, I could finally accept it, and let the world see. I was dead inside.

I embraced this new pain as a sadistic sort of relief before truly giving up.I was escaping from the pain. I was leaving behind the girl.

Broken. I continued to bleed apart in the openness.

'Cold, cold water surrounds me now. You'll be forced to listen this time, won't you? I am lost, with nothing.'

I stopped fighting the current, and let what pieces of me I had left, the pieces that I hadn't stupidly given away, be swept away.

And the water turned red.