She wasn't sure how she could keep this up. The lies, the secrets, it was all too much. All she knew is that she wanted it to be over. She wanted it all to be over. She imagines not breathing, she pictures hurting herself and it's almost a relief to her, the critical amount of insanity was pure to her. She missed her blood, on her wrists, her legs. It all wouldn't matter soon. She pictured herself hanging from the ceiling, pulling the trigger in her mouth. Death never scared her. The dark oblivion of killing herself sounded so bright. She wanted out. Running to the fire escape of life, she wanted nothing more than to get out. She found a certain serenity in ending her life, the complexity, the factors, the commitment put in to it. Committing suicide was so fascinating to her, she didn't know what pulled her under. Her life wasn't as bad and some people thought, she had a dipshit father and a stomach that decided to speed up mother natures' death course. She was in pain, but she was never scared. She was fucked up, that was easy to tell, the thoughts of death consumed her. Her mom hated the thoughts of self harming, but she didn't know half of what the girl was thinking. The girl had a good life, she had a great girlfriend who always made her smile and a great best friend who did the same but to an extent. The girl couldn't take herself for much longer, she was barely hanging on to what sanity she had left. The thoughts finally took over her. She finally felt at peace, bloody, at the bottom of a six story building.
