A soft grey light filters through your rooms depleted blinds. Staring up at the ceiling, you hear the tears of those around you fall against your roof. The sky is angry, rumbling and rolling. It's a Monday morning. And much like those around you- you await the inevitable. The week ahead.
What will you do?
How will you continue to hurt yourself? Will that taunting blade you call a comfort graze your body in defeat? Will you spend another night with those so called friends of yours, Ana and Mia? Will you hide yourself away from the world and lock the doors infinitely? Will you end it? Will you take your final breaths at the hand of a noose or pain killers? Will you break the ties that bind you to this world?
The tears of those around you fall against your roofs surface. They see you crumbling like the bricks of a building. They watch you as your rag doll stitches turn to lose strings. They want to help. They seek for the real you hidden behind the altercations. But you won't let them in. You're already too far gone.
You roll out of bed. And take a look in the mirror. Ana and Mia stand beside you whispering what you'd call "Thinspiration" in your ears. You get dressed and then lay back down in your bed.
It's a Monday morning.
You can't handle another week. Of torture. Of scrutiny. Of hurting those around you. You just can't handle yourself. Your mind. Your soul. Your entire being. You're done.
Your demons have won.
