Fingertips | BTS Depression

My Mind

I slice away at my skin. The blade digging deeper with each cut. I released my anger from my skin. I deserve this! I deserve everything! Why am I so fucking useless?! Im sobbing at this point, as the crimson mixes with the clear. It drains. I fall to the ground in defeat. Putting my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. Burying my head into my knees, I continue to sob. The blood still running down my arms.

I turn off the shower, grabbing my towel, wrapping it around me. Left, right, tuck. There, perfect. I glare into the mirror. Tracing the body I saw in it. The ugly fat. The pale and dull skin. The dark bruises. And the scars. I hate this. All of it. It would be so much easier just to end it. Im ok with that. I wouldn't mind. But the fans would. ARMY would be disappointed.
I grab my clothes after i finish drying off and put them on. Boxers, then pants, then shirt. Ok. Good. Now I dry my hair. 123. 123. 123. Repeat that twice while putting the towel on my head and drying my hair. Now I just clean the cuts. I take some bandages and wrap my bloodied wrist after disinfecting it. Then I roll down my sleeve and exit the bathroom. "Hey hyung, Namjoon-hyung told me you weren't feeling well today. Is everything okay?" Jungkook asks, his puppy eyes piercing me. It's times like this that my sanity hits me. I feel guilty and my conscience feels heavy. My lies feel as if they are all about to come up my throat. I begin to remember good times I have had with them, the memories that are usually painted grey and molded in my mind to seem sad. As if they were never good at all. It's a bittersweet taste that I choke on. I suddenly start to feel tears prick my eyes. I can feel it. They're about to come out. It's a suffocating feeling and I know I have to leave. I have to get out of this conversation right now. "Of course. I'm fine Jungkook. I just get grumpy when I wake up. Anyway I gotta go. Bye." My voice has a whiney tone as I speak and I hate it. I want to slit my own throat just so I don't have to hear my voice anymore. I quickly walk away, ignoring any questions or protests. I put my shoes on, left lace first of course, and then grab a jacket. I race out the door, finally allowing my tears to fall. Its hard to breathe. I don't know if it's the fine dust or my oncoming panic attack but I slide on my face mask anyway and go into a nearby forest.