cuts, pain, blood, better

it hard to tell people how your mind works. many work in different ways. in ways people don't understand. some people think blood is the answer, and sometimes it is, isn't it?

My stress, to much to bear. The knife in hand, the pain, the blood. So red. The smell, unbearible. My stress is gone, i'm fine. The bleeding is increased. I cut again, making a deaper slit. I don't feel pain. My life was useless, nothing at all. Nobody understood me. I was pushed aside like dust. I was just a figment, a shadow. Nothing. I cut again deeper, making it bleed more. The blood on the knife a dark red, dripping, stainig my jeans. One more cut, and it'll be over. I cut again, the deepest and drop. My eyes close and I'm gone.

 

 

Author's Note

srry, my grammar might suck in this, lolz