Hey all! Just a reminder, my story is for funsies! And yes, serious things happen, and I might not get them right. But isn't that the glory of creative writing? Have fun with the next few chapters and review the shit out of them!

With love,

Skee

The shower was off.

My hair, fully soaked, dripped onto my cotton clad shoulders.

The gray sweatshirt I wore daily doubled as a pajama shirt.

I was rarely without it.

It was a kind of safety blanket for me.

But now, I felt anything but safe and sound.

The familiar sense of chaos was starting to settle in my head.

Yes, my best friend was in the hospital.

Yes, I wanted my ex, bad.

Yes, my more recent ex was downstairs and I want him too.

But I just didn't have the balls to say so.

But that wasn't even the worse part.

After these few weeks, I'd actually thought had a hold on the live-in pine for alcohol in my head.

Just thinking the word was enough to ignite the tingling underneath my skin.

The insatiable burn.

It would never really go away, not until I was dead.

The force of the ache crawling through me was plenty to get the razor blade in my grasp.

Even more than enough to make my hand push the blade against my flesh.

It was the worst sound I'd ever heard, the ripping of my own skin.

Even though the sound alone was enough to make me puke, the pain was barely an after thought.

And was far out weighed by the fire that could only be smothered by my favorite, worst enemy.

Again, I tried.

The sound almost unbearable, but the release just as dull.

Why was it not working?

I started to panic.

My breathing quickened to the point of gasping.

In a complete moment of desperation, I pushed harder, deeper, into my skin.

The disgusting noise was almost worth the brief moment of freedom.

Freedom from my own hellish prison.

But it was brief, very brief.

All I needed was a little longer.

Just another millisecond of bliss.

Fully convinced it was the only way, I tried once more.

And as the blade tore through my arm, I could feel it.

So close.

The sweet taste of freedom.

But so far.

I still wasn't there.

It was so close it hurt.

Harder, I pressed.

The beating in my chest was so fast; when I finally reached it, for a moment, it stopped.

My eyes, squeezed shut, relaxed some.

In another breath, I was feeling tired.

My heartbeat calmed, and I dared let go of reality.

Despite the hot wetness that laced my finger tips.