I found myself angered at the lack of success.
Overwhelming feelings of anger... sadness... emotions I can't even comprehend myself.
I scratch at my hand.
Once.
Once more.
It becomes addicting.
The only thing keeping myself from doing the unthinkable.
A brief moment of pain causing my exploding brain relief.
It all seems so worth it.
But I find myself still frustrated, unsatisfied when the only thing left behind is red swollen marks.
My brain craves for more with the belief I deserve it.
I crave the satisfaction of knowing i've done something.
I crave the satisfaction of seeing the damage I've created.
With tears crawling down my cheek I grab the scissors.
Regret already filling my head as I begin to dig into my skin with the blade.
At this exact moment I find relief with the tingling sensation on my wrist.
Once again it becomes addicting.
Unable to stop myself the blade creates slices through my soft skin.
Blood starts crawling through the slits as more tears poor down my face.
I give up.
Life is too hard to be lived.
Nothing could be said to change my mind.
The guilt of leaving loved ones gone.
I grow selfish, thinking only of my own benefits.
I know how roughly it will affect some.
"Goodbye, I love you."
The message goes out to only one.
The only one who needs the closure.
The only one who truly was there for me.
I'm sorry.
