With Scars On My Wrists..

With Scars On My Wrists..

I feel so stupid sometimes, like why the hell should i be here, I\'m just a waste of space just making everything more and more worst.

I feel as though the worlds against me, like I\'m fighting a lose-lose fight. as if I\'m rejected from everything and the only person that cares and wants to love me is death.

so i sit in my room, my music blasting thought the walls and i slowly reach into my drawer to the only pain killer that actually works. dreading the worst of but also hoping for the best of death.

my life slowly flashes in front of my eyes as i start to cry. i grasp the only thing that cares tightly, i lay my arm onto my knee, i gently slide the razor across my wrist, hoping for the best..

hoping for the best...

Death.