I look up at my ceiling, feeling my head spin from the lack blood.
I can feel the blood pouring down my wrists from the two cuts I made minutes before, covering the floor around me.
I don’t feel a thing, maybe I should, at least I was hoping I could because then maybe I wouldn’t have cut so deep.
I was hoping to feel something that tied me to this life, that I would be willing to stay but I feel nothing, I feel numb.
I wanted help, reached out to people but they turned away from me. So I cut and drank my misery.
I am worth nothing alive and won’t be missed.
I feel myself getting tired, the little fight I had slipping away.
I close my eyes, seeing the dog I will miss but no one else.
I feel my breathing start to slow down even more and I start to drift away to a place much happier then here.
I feel relieved.