And I bursted out, again.
Sitting at the harbour, people passing by.
Laughing, Talking, enjoying life.
While I was sitting in tiny shorts on the stairs made of stone, alone.
I put on my hood of my hoodie, rain, wind.
People went inside.
My body shivered, I was numb. But I didn't wanted to feel again. The blade was resting on my neck, on the side, hands were shivering from the cold. Pressed it down, made it draw a line. A tiny bit of blood ran down. It stopped. Healed itself. Again.
I did more. And more. They healed.
Other side. My hand was too shaky. It left scars. I sang a song with the heavy rain that was pouring down on me. I cried. I am weak, I am an idiot.
I was cold. I was alone.
Bestfriend popped into my mind.
I called her.
She ignored me?
Anger.
Frustration.
Sadness.
Loneliness.
She doesn't need me. Noone needs me.
Another cut. On front. Blood. Didn't stopped.
I did it.
I did it?
No.
Stop.
I'm sorry.
Make it stop.
