The grip tightening around my neck is more menacing.
The sting on my wrist is more threatening.
The will to fight slowly fading.
The urge to give in is just becoming a strong desire.
A desire to let my suffering end.
Not sure why.
Not sure when.
But I'm done
Done being this way.
Done thinking this way.
I'm done.
YOU ARE READING
A Fight With Depression
Short Story(Trigger Warnings) Do not read if you are bothered by reading very real everyday senarios such as suicide, self harm, and other things that tend to mend with having most mental illnesses. This book is a different book where every chapter is a short...
