I'm okay. That's what you wanted to hear right? That I'm ok? Well I'm not. I'm just fucking not. Nobody notices, but I don't expect them to. The only thing my parents noticed was when my grades began to drop, and then the only thing I heard from them was, "try harder." There is not a day where I do not think about razors and pills. Windows and cars. Ropes and guns. But it's perfectly fine. It's become a part of me. I'm just so good at making people believe that I'm okay. That I'm fine. Why? Because I keep it all in my mind. Do you feel the way I do? The dead weight of your legs from sleeping pills? The dizziness from the alcohol? The soft throbbing of your pulse as the blood pumps out of your wrists? That's it. That's what I've been waiting for. The quiet comfort...The beauty of dying.
