Name, Christian Lakewood
Sex, Male
Age, 20
Height, 6'0
Diagnosis, Unknown
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Its been days. I've been staring at these ugly sea-foam colored walls. My throat is sore and my voice is hoarse from all the screaming I do in my sleep. The doctors don't know whats wrong with me. Every single pill I take eats away at my body as I lay here day and night. The nightmares never seem to stop. I feel so numb from all the morphine being pumped in my veins to help dull the pain. My family stopped visiting after the first year. They would come in and talk to me but I would not respond. The doctors would tell them that I've gotten worse and they would leave with tears down their face. While my father looks at me like I'm a disgrace. It hurts. Everything hurts. I don't want to be here anymore. What's the point in staying if I'm not living? I'm tired of all the medical bills. I'm tired of the doctors putting me through tests and stabbing needles into my arms. If I could just be alone for one second maybe I would be strong enough to get up and slit my wrist till I collapse into a bloody mess. The doctors would find me clean up the mess I made. Tell my family and wish them well because they never cared, I was just a mess for them to clean up. I was just another pay check for my parents to spend. I was just another accident.
