The bathroom's tiled floor is cold on my bare feet
I lock the door to make sure no one can come in
I go to the sink, look at myself in the mirror
I see a girl with mascara running down her face
Hair all messed up
Rage in her eyes
A razor in her hand
Should I be sensible and not do what I'm about to do?
Being sensible is overrated
So I take the razor and put it close to my wrist,
Pressing the blade over a blue vein sticking out
I take a deep breath,
Count "one...two...three..."
Then slowly make a few cuts on my arm
Feeling all the pain and hatred flow out of me
With the blood that pours out
I feel no pain when this happens
For this is the millionth time I've cut myself
My arms are scarred so badly
I can't wear short sleeved shirts anymore
My mom asks me, "Why are you wearing that shirt in the middle of summer?"
She doesn't care enough to realize what's underneath my sleeves
Underneath my pant legs
On my stomach
No one cares
They don't understand
I can't live like this anymore
I can't express myself to them
I started cutting myself at first to see if people would notice,
Maybe pay a little more attention to me
But, of course, no one did
I couldn't stop
I was addicted, my own self-destructing drug
No therapy could help me
Nothing could help me
Except for suicide
I don't exist in this world anyway
I'm trapping my soul
It needs to be set free
I need a bigger blade
Or maybe a gun
I look through the cupboards and drawers in the bathroom until I find what I want-
A blow-dryer
No, I'm not going to fix my hair
I'm going to fix my life
By ending it
I take the blow-dryer and plug it in
After starting up the bath
When the bath is full enough for me to at least drown in if Plan A doesn't work
I turn off the water
I take another deep breath,
Turn the switch on,
Climb in
And drop it in the water
I feel waves of electricity hit me
Shocking me
Slowly killing me
I don't think of it as death or suicide
I think of it as setting my soul free
