WARNING: The following will be made up, and about depression. Some instances may be true.
CAUTION: Extreme detail.
I cry lonely in my bed for what seems like the thousandth time with a blade in my drawer calling me forward. I slowly open the drawer and find a selection of fine sharp knives. Each with a little blood in the tip. I grab my sharpest knife and flip it open to reveal the shining steel in my lamp light. I press the dull side to my left wrist firmly and then turn it to the razor sharp edge of the blade and dig into my flesh. Slowly. Deep. I hear a door open and footsteps coming to my door, i had to think fast. I close the knife and throw it under my pillow, then turn of the lamp and cover myself in my big warm blankets. My door swings open and my heart is pounding.
"Mitch!" My little sister says happy to see me, but im acting asleep.
"Night night mitch." Serena says as she closes the door behind herself. I gape for breath and my heart starts to slow as i fall into sleep.
"That was close." I thought.
