The Last Slice

Let me just… ahhh…

I slit my wrist and I felt relief take over me

The pain increased as I watched my smooth chocolate skin fade away behind a curtain of crimson red blood that was now dripping onto my cream carpet taking with it the pain I had in my heart. The knife became my therapist. I didn’t have to worry about awkwardly explaining how it felt to be abused, bullied, molested. It understood me and I understood it. But one day we were talking and things went to far. It cut me too deep, deeper than I’d intended. I didn’t mean to die. I meant to take away the pain. And now from this eternal hell I relive my life over and over again and think if I could live again would I treat pain in the same way? Harming your body to heal your soul doesn’t work. I wish I’d known that before I let the knife do it’s worst.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s