I can hear the rain's water drops outside.
I love their delicate sound when they come crashing into the window.
I love the strange perfume they make when I step out of my house for a walk.
I love everything about rainy days.
They remind me of myself sometimes.
They are calm and sad at the same time.
When I was a kid, I used to think that god was sad when it rained, but now that I know it isn't true, I always think that my emotions affect the weather more than anything.
The room is hot and my head won't stop hurting.
I took a day off because someone at work is sick and, of course, the only person who would be sick as well is ME.
ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME. ME.
I'm so sick from my head to my heart.
Every word hurts and I don't know why.
It feels like my heart is aching.
It feels like I'm going deeper every second and that I'm soon going to reach the end.
I'm so sick of myself.
Reaching this end is my only goal now.
Ending it all is my only goal now.
Nothing has sense anymore, not the sound of the rain outside, not it's smell, not my tiny apartment, not my work, not even my pathetic little life.
Everyone left me.
Mom.
Dad.
Where are you now?
Where am I?
This isn't what we wanted.
This isn't what we expected.
Don't go..
Don't leave me. Please.
I'm begging you.
Don't stop being my parents.
None of this is the real me.
YOU ARE READING
The girl who met the sun.
General FictionWe can say life is shitty. We are all gonna die so fuck it, why wouldn't I be the one choosing my own destiny? I admit it. I want to die. No one is here to cry when I'll be dead, so, I don't have to worry. I know I talk a lot about death but who...
