I woke up early in the morning, dried up tear stains on my cheeks. I looked at the ceiling, it was a Sunday. I was drowning in my own fucking mind, I'm paralyzed and just stared at the ceiling.
Sundays are supposed to be happy. Why don't I deserve happiness? Why can't I just wake up early in the morning not feeling sad? Why do I have to cut myself? Why? Just fucking why?
I stood up. Slightly feeling illl, REALLY feeling ill. I felt it again. I felt like I'm drowning in a pool of sadness again, and no one can save me from drowning.
Suicidal. Depressed. Upset. Hatred. Broken. Shattered. Dead. Rough. Bad. Worthless. Useless. That's what I felt.
_______________
Short chapter, sorry.
YOU ARE READING
Shattered To The Ground
Teen FictionI feel broken, shattered, no one can fix me. Sick, tired, no one can heal me. Lost, crazy, no one can find me. Depressed, helpless, no one can save me.
