living in hell

living in hell

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Jun 17, 2015
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Fiction
Social Themes
I spend my days in hell every day I awake from a peaceful slumber. There's nothing in this world that can pull me out of this darkened hole. I can't help but wonder if anyone would ever love me. I mean how could somebody love a worthless no good little emo peace of shit like me. well I guess this is goodbye to think I actually thought I could be loved but, yet everyone I once have loved never really loved me at all. I grasped the rope I had in my hand and grabbed the razor blade on my sink. I cut my wrist maybe five or six times before I tied the rope around my ceiling fan and put the loop around my neck and dropped from the chair I was standing on. I am now truly at peace is what was written in the pool of blood underneath my now lifeless body.
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Save Me

I was drowning. I knew that. I also knew that the hands around my throat, pushing me deeper into the river water was the cause. What I didn't know was who was drowning me and why. It hurt thinking. It hurt to do anything right now. But I still screamed under the cold water and pushed the hands away as hard as I could. It didn't have much effect. I fought and fought, but I was getting weaker, and colder. The pain was overbearing. I couldn't breathe. It was the worst pain imaginable; and as the hands that were around my neck were forcibly ripped off by some unknown force, I slipped deeper into the depths of the river. My hair was straight above me along with my arms. My eyes were open and the water burned. A darkness started to pull me under, taking the pain away. I felt a small pressure around my waist, before the darkness completely consumed me. The last thing I remember is thinking, save me.

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