My parents think I should be this "fun", "outgoing", "extrovert" kind of girl. But that isn't who I am. I'm not an extrovert whatsoever. I don't like making friends. What's the point if they all abandon you eventually? Or talk about you behind your back? No thank you. I don't want to deal with that kind of stuff. Besides, nobody relates to me anyways.
I refuse to wear t-shirts, and shorts even during the hot months. I prefer hoodies, and sweatpants. They cover up all the scars easier. I don't really know who I am anymore. Sometimes, my wish is just to die. If people don't care about my feelings now, why would they care when I'm dead? When I'm a decaying mess. I've honestly thought about killing myself, but I'm still in the planning stage.
How will I kill myself?
Where will I kill myself?
When will I kill myself?
Will I leave a suicide note, or no?
I still have to answer all these questions, but soon enough I will. The day I kill myself, the blood will be gushing from me. I love walking through cemeteries, just because one day that'll be me in the ground. I'll be home, with my Lord, one day. Soon enough.
Nobody will be able to reverse my actions that I take, and that might be the best thought I've had in a while.
If I cut open an artery and nobody is home for awhile, I'll just die, from the blood gushing from myself.
YOU ARE READING
Bleeding Heart *Still in Writing the Chapters*
Teen Fiction15 year old Jade, is slowly falling into the trap of depression and suicidal thoughts after moving away from her friends. Jade had the best possibly friends before she moved away, and now she has to figure out how to fit in again.
