Suicide

Peace

I was feeling sad and angry. Again. The last time I felt so sad was yesterday, when I cut myself. I had no one left. No one who cared. No friends. No family. I could do what I wanted, and no one would notice. I was lonely. And that made me depressed, which led to me hurting myself.

I walked into the bathroom and grabbed my pocketknife from the cabinet. I sat down onto the cold bathroom tiles and opened the knife. I held it against my wrist and slowely started to apply presure and move the knife. My wrist started bleeding, but I continued. I cut my other wrist as well, and soon the blood was slowely flowing out of my arms. I put the knife down next to me and just looked at the blood. The cuts didn't hurt, and watching the blood flow out of my wrists calmed me down, it relaxed me.

After a while, I started feeling dizzy. By now there was a small puddle of blood on the floor, and the sleeves of my shirt were soaked. I laid my head against the wall, and a bit later my surroudings started to blur. My vision was turning black, and I didn't hear any sounds. I sat on the floor, not moving. I didn't care. I knew what was happening, that I was dying, but I was okay with it. It didn't take long for my consiousness to slip, and I didn't feel anything anymore. I finally found peace.