"A thanks to all my tears
Who were always there in my darkest times when I was alone."
This book is not about my pathetic pitied self. Perhaps that's all they'll ever see me as, perhaps they'll always assume that I was the victim. Perhaps this will...
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Please read this before commencing forward-
So, here it is; the first chapter. If you find any grammatical errors or have any questions, feel free to let me know in the comments. The story will get more interesting.
TRIGGER WARNING:
Also, this story is not suitable for kids under fourteen years. There is no adult content, but there will be mentions of suicide. All those who are not comfortable PLEASE do not go forward.
And I want you all to know that life is worth loving. The main character can be a little extra. Please do not take her words to heart.
This story does not mean to offend anyone. If it offends you, you can let me know in the comments or in private and I will make edits if required. Think of this as just a story. Please do not take it very seriously.
The dedication is towards one of the first persons to vote my story. Thank you very much @lorenzoluiz97.
I held the knife firmly over my wrist. I closed my eyes, shuddered, and took a deep breath. Too many thoughts clouded my head at that moment, and I wasn't sure which ones I should suppress; the ones convincing me to do it or the ones stopping me from doing it.
Thoughts kept coming to me, one after the other. I shut my eyes, doing my best to keep myself from screaming because of all the loud thoughts in my head. But they kept coming, like waves hitting the shore during high tide. I could not run, there was nothing I could do. The voices were loud in my head, with a sad break-up song playing in loud voice in my head and more voices overlapping. I couldn't focus, I couldn't think.
And in the hopes of stopping them, I slid the knife against my wrist, applying pressure. But apparently, it wasn't enough. I barely made a scratch. I had fear of pain, so any way of dying that might cause me the slightest amount of pain had been far out of my reach. I thought I had overcome my fear. Apparently, I was wrong.
An angry sob left my mouth, and I growled, frustrated that the tears wouldn't come. I wanted to cry, I wanted to cry so badly, I wanted to take out all the pain, stress, frustration and everything. But I couldn't. The tears just wouldn't come.
I ran the knife again over my wrist, and yet again, nothing seemed to happen. And just like that, my mild algophobia took control and the next moment, I was slamming the knife against the kitchen counter. I had been this close to the answer I had been searching for over a year, and now, my opportunity was gone again. Screw stupid phobias.
I took a few ragged breathes, trying to calm myself, trying to send away the thoughts.
Do it, a voice whispered in my head. The answer's right here, right in front of you.
Don't! What if it's painful? Asked another voice.
It won't be. Afterlife's not supposed to be painful. You'll go to heaven!
