The Final Cut

A girl in her last minutes of life.

I look up at my ceiling, feeling my head spin from the lack blood.

I can feel the blood pouring down my wrists from the two cuts I made minutes before, covering the floor around me.

I don’t feel a thing, maybe I should, at least I was hoping I could because then maybe I wouldn’t have cut so deep.

I was hoping to feel something that tied me to this life, that I would be willing to stay but I feel nothing, I feel numb.

I wanted help, reached out to people but they turned away from me. So I cut and drank my misery.

I am worth nothing alive and won’t be missed.

I feel myself getting tired, the little fight I had slipping away.

I close my eyes, seeing the dog I will miss but no one else.

I feel my breathing start to slow down even more and I start to drift away to a place much happier then here.

I feel relieved. 

Author's Note

Hi, I would like some feed back. Its something I wrote real quick while I was at work. So grammar might not be great. But would love to know what you think. Thank you.

Reviews

[Ashish]

But why??
Why the girl cut her wrist?
If you want to keep the suspense then it is fine..
"I wanted help"
What type of help and why they turned back?

I think it could be a great work of suspense..

[terry smith]

when you cannot find someone to miss you must think of the things you will miss and make them yours. nice writing of despair ...this story is unfortunately so true...makes me blue.