𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐀 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

~𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞~

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝗼 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐤𝐢. 𝐈 𝐥𝗼𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝗺𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝗼 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝗼 𝐈 𝐥𝗼𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 <3
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~𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞~
⚠︎︎𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐡𝐚𝐫𝗺,𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐝𝗼𝐬𝐞⚠︎︎

~𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭~

~

~𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕~

The young man, sitting on the edge of his bed, was at a loss for what to do. He was numb and fatigued, everything around him was black and white, he felt useless, and everything, in his opinion, was his fault. He knew that sitting there would do nothing, yet he didn't want to get up. He's been worried out since he got into this ridiculous killing game, but he didn't show it because he didn't think anyone cared. Dealing with it... was never simple.

There were strong desires that came out of nowhere. Sudden. It seemed to appear out of nowhere, pulling and yanking on the threads of tremendous temptation. It was simple to dismiss it at first. But, as time went on, it became extremely difficult to not do so. His parents never gave him the time and day. I'm not going to raise a child. He was certain he was the epitome of unpredictability. From the time he was old enough to understand, he could tell that his parents didn't appreciate him.

The pressure he's under to meet expectations... it's all come crashing down around him. The male has been contemplating his plan to commit himself for what seems like months. Sure, it was a terrible notion, but it just wouldn't leave his head. He's been cutting himself to get rid of the thought in his head. He was in the shower when the thought occurred to him. He reached out to seize the thing. He was well aware that it was razor-sharp. That was the point all along. He stroked his smooth flesh with it. It's simplistic to cut.

There was no blood spilt because it was only the first layer. In any case, the water in the shower would wash it away. It was merely a minor annoyance. As if it were a paper cut. He did it once more, but this time he went deeper. He reasoned that he had a valid reason. It was nothing more than a paper cut. It's not as if anyone would inquire. He couldn't stop, he felt like he was about to break, and he was virtually addicted. He had never discussed his issues with his friends, preferring to keep things to himself.

No matter how much he wanted to talk about what he was going through, he couldn't bring himself to talk about it. He wore a mask to cover up what he was thinking and what he felt like. He always thought that they'll never understand or that they'll just care at all, He didn't need the rest of the world to know that he's been doing his best, but he doesn't think he could bear being somewhere where he couldn't see himself. Lie after lie, telling himself that's he's gonna be okay but having a hard time believing himself.

He's been going in the opposite direction. His mind was rummaging through old memories, attempting to recall the last time he felt truly pleased. He sometimes wishes he didn't have a past, a past in which he didn't have to remind himself how many times he had failed. He wouldn't be in this situation if he didn't care what other people thought of him if he hadn't been lured into this killing game. He recalls the last time he made a mistake, and they were slain as a result of it. He was trapped in his room, the knife sat on his sink from before.