Writings

The Swing

I cornered myself in my dark room. I sat and cried. Why am I here? Why am I alive? Everything I do, I make things worse. Everything I touch, I break. When I cry over it, I'm overreacting and a attention whore but when someone else does it, everyone comforts them. Humans are like glass, we break them and can't fix them. My lips tremble and strains of hair cover my face. I sniffed my nose and look down at my dimmed phone. 'I don't care' I read from a close friend. 'He's always like that' she says again. No he isn't. He's hurtful.

Is it time for goodbye? I stood on my weak legs and walked out my room into a dark hallways and leads to misery. I slowly went down the stairs as it creaks. "Goodbye guys."I whisper to my sleeping house hold. I took my car keys and drove you Redhead cliff. It's known best for the swing to death. Nobody dared to swing it other than me.

I parked and ran to the swing. I got on and started swinging. The higher up, the more over the edge I'm at. "Every colour becomes dull at on points. Some try to help repaint it as other, lets it become duller." I spoke outloud. The wind push against my back, giving me more power and speed. I take one more look at my surroundings before I take a leap to what I call, freedom.....