Suicidal || m.c [completed]

Letter two.

I love the feel of the cold blade cutting my skin and the blood falling down my arm. 

I hope one day this pain will all go away. 

Why can't you help me?

As of right now, as I right, i'm trying to keep the blood from my fresh cut on my wrist off of the paper. 

I'm trying.

I really am. 

I'm trying to get better. 

I really am. 

But nothing seems to help. 

Therapy in a no go. 

The depression tablets I take don't help either. 

I just want to be alive again. 

I want to feel the fresh air in my lungs. 

I want to breathe and not feel any kind of weight on my shoulders. 

And when I'm around you, I feel that. 

But you don't notice me. 

Oh how I wish you did.