Sometimes...i just want to feel the warm blood from my wrist swim down my arm into the sink, letting all the bad thoughts free. Everything will be free, me, and only me. All I do is stand there. Annoying. Dieing slowly. A future Angel. Sometimes...i want to feel the rope burn and the sweet sounds of the chair falling and the snap of my neck when I get to it. Sometimes...i want the burning sensation of fire melting away my fragile skin burning my useless self. Sometimes...i want to feel the cold metal razor slide across my neck slicing my throat and the warm blood flowing from the laceration. Sometimes...i want to feel the jolt of throwing a toaster in my cold bath tub making my body lifeless and the water warm. Sometimes... I want to fall the pills slide down my throat 2..3...5..10..at a time and the sight of fading to black. Sometimes...i want to feel the ball on my pen as I write a final saying on a piece of paper. Sometimes...i want to feel the burning felling of bleach and the wonderful taste it leaves before I. Every day...i want to end my life. Every day... Im so lonely. Every day... I have no one here with me at home. Every day...i have no escape. Every day... I want to cry. Every day... I leave my masks on pulling one of slowly. Every day... I hate myself. Every day... Im fat. Every day... Im disgusting. Every day... I die. I will die. I am already dead. Dying wouldnt hurt. It would feel joyful...happy..peacful...amazing. Forget this piece of human trash who is writing this forgetful sentance. This forgetful life. I will abandon my body someday...why not now?
