Unpretty

Unpretty - 19

I am dying. I am sure of it.

I pry my eyes open despite my blurred vision and look all around me.

Everyone else starts this day just like any other day while I slowly die.

Here on my bathroom floor, soaked with my own blood I will experience this painful death.

The agonizing pain all over my face continues to escalate and a groan escapes from my lips.

Only the pain keeps me conscious enough and I wish it would stop.

Gushes of tears fall from my eyes, no doubt mixed with blood.

Every small movement sends pain coursing through me that I suppress a scream because of it.

I’ve felt so brave and so convinced that I will succeed.

I focused on what I wanted that I ignored the possibilities of failure.

How does something that starts off nicely suddenly ends in tragedy?

It’s funny that I come to realize how afraid I am of dying only now that I am close to it.

All I want is to be pretty, to be normal; to be like everyone else around me.

Now I die because I wanted all of it.

Did I want things all too much? Was it all better if I just stopped?

No one will ever notice that I am dead. Not one. How pathetic.

I will die all alone and I am still a failure even in death.

Suddenly I feel my heart beat faster, my breath comes in short gasps and my sight blurs all the more.

This is it, I will die now.

I wish I could’ve done something more.  I wish I could’ve chosen better or decided differently.

I guess it’s true then, that when we’re about to die that is when we realize things we should’ve realized a long time ago.

But there really is no room for regrets when I know I’m about to die, regrets are all forgotten in an instant and all I think about is that I want to survive.

I don’t want to die. Not this way. Not now.

To hell with my weakened senses and blurred vision, if I die then so be it, but I will try to save myself first.

Mustering all the strength I have left, I carefully roll my body so that I lay face down, lifting my head so my face wouldn’t touch the floor.

Every move I make creates another wave of pain that makes me wince and cry even more.

I feel my face throbbing that I dare not touch any part of it, fearing that it will cause more torture.

When the pain becomes tolerable once again, I force myself to at least crawl towards the door.

How much blood have I already lost that it has almost covered my entire bathroom floor?

Slowly I crawl towards the living room where my phone is and redial the last number I called.

Placing the phone to my ear I patiently wait for someone to answer the other end.

As I hear the phone being answered I utter the words I vowed never to speak again.

Help me.

 

Disoriented and weak, I let myself succumb to darkness.

I have decided not to kill her. I'm not sure I made the right decision though. :l

Happy New Year everyone! Cheers!