about her.

fourteen.

"don't self destruct tonight," her best friend told her.

they called it "self destructing" instead of suicide

because it was more accurate.

after all, they both were time bombs.

don't self destruct tonight.

she thought of the half bottle of ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet.

don't self destruct tonight.

she wondered what it would be like to

shove one of her mother's giant chef's knives into her stomach.

don't self destruct tonight.

what if she snuck some of her mother's sleeping pills and slept forever?

no one would know until morning...

don't self destruct tonight.

don't self destruct tonight.

don't self destruct tonight.

she pulls her legs up to her chest and begins to breathe heavily,

fighting away tears.

should i? would i? could i?

("no, it's not your time yet, not your time yet...")

contradicting voices echo in her head

while she fights off the destructive thoughts that she had thought were dead.

"why isn't it just over already?" she screams, yet no one hears the pain in her voice.

fuck, i'm so tired...