Stay

I burst into my house and let the tears escape my eyes. I ran upstairs and into my bedroom throwing my bag onto my bed.
Warning: this story contains scenes of self harm and discussion of depression and anxiety.

I ran into the bathroom and rummaged through my drawers looking for one of my blades. My parents were still at work and they wouldn't be home for a few hours so I didn't worry about closing the door. I found one of my small, sharp blades in the bottom of a drawer and started slicing at my wrists.

I am a mess. I'm not good enough. I can't handle it anymore. So many thoughts were rushing through my head...