I can't do this alone (septiplier fanfic)

Chapter 1

  Jacks pov
*beep beep beep* I shot up, quickly turning my alarm off. Rubbing my eyes, I check the time. 5:30. I sigh, sitting on the edge of my bed. Only five minutes of sleep, I thought to myself. This has gotten usual, only sleeping for minutes at a time. Probably for 6 months this has been going on. I go to stand up, only to fall right back down. Again attempting to stand up, I succeed. Stumbling over to the bathroom, I take a look in the mirror. 'Pathetic, worthless, useless, ugly, fat' All these words run through my head as I stare at myself. Staring at my face, I notice how pale and sunken my eyes are. Dark circles rim the underside of my eyes, threatening tears to spill out. I take off my shirt, attempting to get a better look at myself. If one were to look at my state, they would say pale, and fat. Irish men are already very pale, but I was pushing the limit. Turning my arms over, I see all the old, some new scars lining up and down both arms. I sit on the bath tub, crying my eyes out, wondering how everything went wrong.

Standing up, I walk over to the scale. I stand on it, not wanting to look down at the numbers. 73, the blue letters blink. I stand shocked, knowing I should have lost a lot less considering the most I've eaten in the past four weeks is a piece of toast. I walk over to the toilet and throw up again, hoping to get all food out of my system, only seeing water. Staring at the bathroom counter, I see a old blood covered razor. Swiftly grabbing the razor, I sit on the ground. Raising the razor above my arm, I make cuts going from my wrist all the way up to my elbow. Cutting is like drugs, once you do it once, it becomes addicting. I couldn't help it, I bawled my eyes out as I watch the blood pool out of my arms.

Standing up, I didn't even bother cleaning up this time. Going back to lay back down in my bed, I stare at my recording equipment for a few seconds. I have about 50 pre recorded videos before my depression came, but you could still tell something was wrong in the videos. Laying down, I stare up at my ceiling, knowing I will only get a few minutes of sleep like all other nights. Crying, I pull my head under the blanket and close my eyes.
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How was it? This is one of my first stories and I think I've done good so far. I suspect that no one will read this story but I like to write.