Most of the time I sit on the floor and think about how many times he saved me, yet I couldn't return the favour and save him. I think about how I could join him in the ground, but then I think I haven't suffered enough to really feel what he went through that night. I cut my self, but I can never feel the pain, it hurts to much in my mind and heart. He shouldn't have died that night, it should have been me.
Even if I tell myself to stop I still end up here on the kitchen floor with a syringe or a knife, but tonight I bought some cigarettes and that's where I'm at right now, puffing smoke from my dry, cracked lips, while blood seeps from my arms. I don't know how long I'm on the floor for, I never really know what time it is anymore. I dispose all of the clocks and watches I owned. I never use my phone and I'm never around people so it's hard to find out what time it is. I normally fall asleep on the floor, it's not that comfortable but I'm used to it now, I've been doing it for 9 months. The only problem with me being like this is I'm running out of money, and I soon won't be able to pay for things. I don't have any financial support, my parents disowned me when I was 10, Yoongi's parents are dead and I lost contact with my friends after the second incident.
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I'm only writing short chapters cause I'm lazy.
Enjoy
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Lost. || BTS FF ||
FanfictionAll she wanted was to forget the night that took him away, but even if she forgot it wouldn't make her better. The trauma made something odd happen, it I would now be an ongoing struggle for her to figure out how to adapt to it.
