Relief.

Relief.

Thoughts.

They're invading your mind.

They're haunting you, eating you alive.

You can't function.

You desire nothing.

Feel nothing.

Do nothing.

All you want is for the thoughts to stop.

Even for a little while.

And so, you break a pencil sharpener.

Grab a kitchen knife.

Take apart the bathroom razor.

You see the metal shining from the moonlight.

The blade teasing you.

Almost glowing in your shaking hands.

The voices telling you that you have to do it.

And you believe them.

And so, you roll up your sleeve, expose your stomach, your thighs.

You bring that blade to your beautiful, scar free skin.

Little do you know, this will be the start of an addiction.

An addiction that drives people away.

That drives you to antidepressants that do nothing.

But you didn't know this.

So, you look at that glowing skin.

Your shaky hand holding the blade.

Your heart races.

Then, slowly, you drag that blade across your skin.

Feel that sting?

See the blood?

Feel that?

That, my friend, is Relief.

~Rose.