It was November 30, and Christmas was in 25 days. I didn't wanna celebrate because I knew I'd be alone. I cut long slits across my wrist until my wrist was gushing blood until there was 5. No one knew I did this. Not even my best friends knew that their boyfriends were the reasons that I was contemplating suicide and the reason my life was a living hell.
"Why me?" I asked myself. Tears fell from my eyes and burned my cuts as I spotted a picture of my mother on the side table. I smiled as I traced my finger across her bright green eyes.
Right now, all I want is someone to snuggle up with, someone to tell me that everything will be ok, someone that will make me happy. But I know that is too much to ask for because everyone hates me.
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Song for this chapter:
Say something I'm giving up on you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Any where I would've followed you
Say something I'm giving up on you
YOU ARE READING
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