[TW]
Izuku was so over everything. Everyone. Himself too.
He had been walking on egg shells his entire life, Not wanting to upset anone . But now. He had had enough. He couldnt do it anymore. He had tried to escape it but had failed. How useless could he be. Tamrin was right. He is just the same old pathetic midoriya that keeps ruining everything.
He rushed to his dorm and locked the door behind him. He barged twoards his room and sunk down on his knees. He couldnt do this anymore. He had suffered enough hadn't he? Why wouldnt the world just let him die.
His skin itched as his anger grew. He was so so angry. Angry at himself for hurting kacchan. Angry at his classmates who stared at him like a rabit animal. Angry at himself for ruining his life. Angry at the world for not letting him die.
He begged to be saved frome this pain for years , and when no one came he had taken matters into his own hands. He had tried to save himself. And he failed at that too.
What purpose did he have if he couldnt even kill himself.
Everything was taken away frome him so fast. Yet he was too blame for it all.
If he hadnt been so weak he wouldnt have been bullied. If he hadnt been bisexual he wouldnt have fallen for Kacchan. If he hadnt been pathetic he wouldnt have all these scars that ache to be reopened every.FUCKING.DAY.
He hated who he had become.
And god he was just so so tired. He was tired of fighting. Tired of loving and then losing. Tired of smiling. Tired of pretending. Tired of acting like he was okay when in reality all he wanted was to disappear. He was tired of living.
Izuku stood up as he searched his room for something. Anything sharp enough. Anything that would help overshadow that pain in his heart.
But there was nothing.
He threw all the papers on his desk to the floor. Breaking and throwing furnature around. Dumping bags on the floor. Searching through boxes and cupboards and drawers and clothes.
He needed something. He needed relief. He needed help. He needed to be saved.
But not by someone. No. He needed to be saved by something. Pain. He needed pain. He needed a pain strong enough to dull the aching in his chest. He needed to be saved frome this swallowing pit inside of his stomach. He needed it. And he was going to get it.
A frustrated yell escaped his lips and he threw bags around the now destroyed room.
"WHERE IS IT." He yelled out.
God he was pissed. He was so very fucking pissed at everything. He couldnt even find a fucking blade or a lighter or anything. His skin was longing for the feeling that he hadnt had for so long.
Tears blurred his vision as he fell to the floor with his back against a wall. He started sobbing and crying as he desperately scratched at his arms and legs.
He sat like that for what felt like forever. The scratching continuesly as he picked up the pace. His skin was raw and stung with the slightest of touch.
But it wasnt enough.
It was never enough.
He couldnt breath.
He couldnt think.
All that was blaring in his mind was the need to see his arms stained red.
He needed the distinct smell that came with it. He needed the rush in your head as your body tried desperately to distract you frome the pain. He needed the stabbing pain each time the metal was dragged accross the skin. He needed the sinking feeling of his body as it relaxed. He needed the dizziness that blocked out the taunting words his mind shouted at him. He needed the confort of being in control again. He needed the pain. He needed the self destructive actions. He longed for it. He prioritized it. He missed it. He loved it. He needed it.
