Blurbs of Thoughts

Stop

It's getting bad again. I can feel it eating away the inside of me, begging to surface. I can't let it get out. It'll hurt people, I'll hurt people. I killed her. That happy, fun girl. She's gone. They wouldn't let her live, I wouldn't let her live. I loved her though. She was my best friend, my sister, my twin, me. I miss her. I want her back. They got rid of her. Only a matter of time before they finish the job and murder me too. The knife is so close, I can touch it. The pills are only a few feet away. The rope is looking at me with longing eyes, begging me to use it. Begging me to let go of this life. Oh, how I miss the silver touching my arm. How I miss painting my arm with one color yet it always turns out red. Those days where the pain felt like it was a million miles away, replaced with a different, tolerable pain. But I promised him. I can't paint anymore. He makes it better. The pain goes away with him. But as everyone else, eventually, he will leave me, as well. And then once again, I will have nothing. I will resort to painting once again. I will go back to watching the food get passed around and not serving myself any. I will listen to my best friend lecturing me on how everything I'm doing to myself is wrong. Yet she won't understand that I'm not listening anymore. I'm out in the other world, playing with the darkness. Playing with old friends. Then she will give up on me as well. And I will fade to nothing. The world will not be worth living anymore. And for once, I will give into the rope. I will take the pills, and feel joyous as they run down my throat. I will paint once again. And this piece of my work will be well known. I will leave this torturous world and meet my friends in the other world. And the suffering would stop. It all would just stop. Oh, I really wish it would stop. I need everything to stop. Please just stop. I can't take it. Stop...