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.
YOU ARE READING
Suicidal || m.c [completed]
Fanfictionin which a suicidal teen writes letters to the girl he loves. [lower case intended]