Sunday Night

I sit on the steps of the church, illumined by the single street light.
A bottle of vodka in one hand, a razor in the other.
Next to me sits my best friend, also with his razor.
I held the bottle to my lips and chugged the liquid.
It didn't burn anymore, like it used to.
I was past the point of any feeling.
I set the bottle down, now that it no longer took away my pain.
I began to roll up my sleeve but my friend stopped me.
"Please, no tonight. You're too drunk..." he said.
"I can do whatever I want! And I want to feel pain!" I screamed, grabbing my razor and cutting my arm.
He winced but didn't stop me.
Now I wish he had.
In my anger and drunkenness I cut deeper then I had meant to.
I cut myself again, way too deep.
I just wanted to forget...
Finally he could take it no longer.
He grabbed my razor and threw it into the shadows.
I stared at my arm as the blood ran down my arm, making a puddle on the cold concrete.
I was so numb I didn't even care.
But for some reason, he did.
He took off his belt and tied it around my arm to stop the blood.
He used his shirt to wipe up the rest.
I was dizzy from the alcohol and weak from the loss of blood.
He pulled me into his arms and rocked me back and forth.
I cried softly and he said, "You don't have to do this..."
"I don't know what else to do..." I said as I became oblivious to everything else...

really long...and lame....vote and comment please....i swear this is the last one for tonight.