|Current mood:|| amused|
Days pass for I still sit alone in my room with nothing but a razorblade. I carve your name deeper into my arm, in hopes you’ll return. Without you I have nothing, I’ll be nothing, I am nothing. The blood runs from the old and fresh wounds as I cut them deeper, deeper so I’ll never forget. It drips onto the floor and stains the carpet. Nothing I really care too much about. All I saw was visions of you for the past weeks. Now all I see is my hands around your throat, choking the life from your body. I didn’t mean for you to die there. I meant for you to merely feel my pain, so I squeezed tighter, so you would know all the hurt you put me through. I scream at the top of my lungs “how could you say you love me, then go and break it off!? That’s it….you never fucking loved me!!” Soon you died and I was left with nothing, nowhere to go except back into my room and wallow in my own self pity, to keep to myself for a lifetime. My lifetime wasn’t lasting much longer. I could feel myself getting dizzy. The cuts in my arms have bled enough and I have lived my horrid life long enough. As the last drop of blood hits the floor my life fades. For I have become nothing.