Letting go. || Shawn Mendes

N i n e

There will be graphic self harming so I will warn you when it's starting. Happy reading. ___________________January 31,2015

• Shawn's Pov •

It's not my fans. I would never blame anything negative on my fans. They're the only reason why I am where I am in the music Industry. I mean, yeah my voice helped but without them no one would know my name. And I'm so very thankful for that.

But do you know how hard it is to keep your mouth shut? To be that perfect idol? You have to have a positive attitude on everything. And I mean everything .

"Shawn you're a faggot and can't sing for shit." My reply is "thanks for your opinion." Like goddamn those hate comment hurt.

They build up and build up and build up and I explode.

I'm so insecure. How can I have my beautiful fans feel confident if I'm not?

Every word, in every negative comment lowers my self worth.

I'm to the point where I am now worthless.

I think happiness is the richest thing you can ever have, well guess what? I now have no more happiness left in me. I ache for the feeling of loving myself.

*warning graphic self harming ahead*

I got home and today was just not my day. It seemed as if all hate comments were visible to me. For once the loving and caring from my fans wasn't enough.

Everything else was a blur except the small black words on my screen- "How are you even famous?" "Literally you sound worse than 12 year old Justin Bieber". "Kill yourself." "Go die." "You won't be missed." Those. Those were the ones that got to me. Not once has this ever happened to me. I have so many fans, but I can't see them.
•.•.•.
After greeting my parents and Aaliyah, I look to the staircase. Each step. I start to climb them.

One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.

I stop at the top and take a deep breathe.

I open my Door slowly. I head to my bathroom and get my razor. I dissemble it, and grab the tiny pieces of metal. I hold them in my hands... tightly. I feel pain already.

I un-curl my hands and stare at the tiny trickle of blood I have.

That plain wasn't enough. That blood isn't enough.

I take the tiny piece of metal in between my pointer finger and thumb... I position it so that its hovering over the skin on my wrist.

I close my eyes and lean my head back while I take a deep breathe in.

The same time I exhale, I feel a tear sliding it's way down my cheek.

I think to myself, -" I want all the pain to go away, This is my only option now."

I close my eyes once again and at this point there's tears slamming onto my legs and onto the floor.

It's so quiet that I can hear when my tears have collided with the cold white tile floor.

I repeat my breathing exercises, and on the third breath in, I can feel a sharp cold corner piercing into my skin. I move it along the width of my wrist to form a perfect straight line.

I stop for a second and as soon as my eyes open to see the small puddle of red liquid forming, I loose my grip on the blade.

That "pain" was more like relief. As if with the blood, My worries and problems left.

One more. Just one more slice and I'll be okay.

That "one more" turned into 5 more...

And that cold white tile is now stained with thin, warm, red liquid.

And the only evidence of pain left, is my tears.

I've found my new safe place. I've found my new friend. I've found my home. The cold dark. Just my razor and I.
___________________
A/N: I never cry.. This Almost made me cry. Anyways, this book isn't over yet and I'm sorry for not updating.. I'm also sorry if you hate me after reading this. If you ever feel like you aren't worth it, well trust me you are. You wouldn't be here if you didn't have people who care enough to keep you. Trust me, you're loved and not at all worthless. Keep shining my beautiful diamonds.