Description
I look at myself in the mirror. 'Do I really want to wake tomorrow' I think to myself. 'Do I really want to live to see another day. To see my abusive father passed out on the sofa with beer bottles scattered all around the floor. To wake up every morning knowing that I was the reason why mom abandoned my father and I. To wake up early in the morning so that I can attend that hell hole also known as school. To be pushed around by the 'Populars' because I was a nerd and also because I couldn't afford good clothes like them because my father was fired from his job and wasted all our savings on cheap beer. So I had to start working so that I can buy groceries and other needs. To see my ex so called best friend insulting and slapping me just to 'fit in'. 'Do I want to wake up?' I ask myself as I look down to see my silver blade on my my dressing table. I slowly pick it up. It felt so perfect in my hands. I slowly roll up my sleeves till my elbow and stare at all the scars on my forearm. I was never scared it actually made me happy. It was like a drug. It was bad for you but at the same time made you feel good. It was addicting. I know it's stupid; I know it's wrong, but sometimes it's the only thing that gets me through. It helps me escape. And the pain is the only thing telling me that I'm still alive. As I brought the blade close to my wrist and as the blade pinches my skin I hear a faint 'ring'. As I avert my eyes from my wrist and onto the source that made the sound my eyes finely land onto my phone. It was a text. To: Amanda I see you drowning in your own depression and you loosing your last breath of hope. You think nobody sees you. But I do. So hold on. From: Unknown 11:09 .................................................................................................
Mr. Unknown
