could you do it: a short story
My breath hitched as I looked at the pills in the bottles next to my bedside. Tears caressed my cheeks and all sense of emotion left me. I am living for others and not myself. I cannot bear to put the burden of my death on the ones I love.
"Could you do it?" The man in black asked as he sat next to me. He looked up at my ceiling then glanced over at me.
"No..." I mumbled.
The man in black looked over at me and tilted his head.
"She has hope for you, the woman in white, I often envy her." The man in black spoke before continuing, "You haven't cut in a year and few months. You haven't tried overdosing either. You've gotten help and received support. Yet ever now and again, that feeling comes back. That you could do it. Why? Why don't you?"
"I can't bear to put the burden of my death on the ones I love..." I replied softly. The man in black hummed.
"So, you live for others?" He asked. I nodded my head. The man in black let out a sigh before continuing, "That isn't necessarily a bad thing, as you continue to live you may find some form of happiness for yourself. Then eventually, you may live for yourself."
a.b.
YOU ARE READING
Tarnished Beauty
PoetryYou and I, we have different stories and that's what makes us all individually unique. This is just a continuation of mine- where I try and fix myself, relapsing along the way. I hope this gives you hope or whatever you need to survive.
