Depression

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by icheesepuff

by icheesepuff

I've felt like writing this for a while, but I was too lazy and I just didn't even feel like opening wattpad. If the topic of depression or anxiety or anything like that is a sensitive topic, please refrain from reading this. If you need me, you can always PM me at any time or find me on another social media. I'm always here.

I drag my fingernails across my arm once more, biting down on my lip, hot tears cascading down my cheeks. It's back again.

The aching feeling burns a hole in my chest, every thought, every memory, like a burning cigar, slowly killing me. Every emotion feels numb and almost nonexistent, as if it were just a cloud floating by aimlessly. Every emotion drifts by, as if it were being pulled along by the wind. What more is there to lose now?

Quietly, I wait. I wait for the pain to subside. I wait for everything to be over.

Except it never passes. It's always here, hanging over me. It's a rather unbecoming burden, now. I wish it would leave. I wish I would leave, falling back into a black abyss, darkness enveloping me with welcoming arms.

What is life? What is it for? If we're all going to die at some point, what is the point of living? Eventually anybody and everybody who ever knew or remembered us will disappear, fading into nothing, along with ourselves, becoming wisps of life that used to inhabit the earth, but now drift by. Perhaps we are born into another life? But for what? To repeat the cycle of endless death? To make even more people complete and utter emotional wrecks?

Knives are placed neatly on the counter above me. They're so close; so easy to reach. Almost as easy as death. Ironic, huh? Something that causes death, is almost as easy to come upon as death itself. What a mad world.

I look over the counter top. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Five knives to choose from. Such variety. I wipe the tears from my face with the back of my hand, reaching my hand over the counter to grab the third knife, my face reflecting on the gleaming edge of the knife.

No, I'm not going to fucking end myself. Just a few simple cuts, I suppose.

I press the edge of the knife to my arm, the cold of the knife sending shivers down my spine. More tears spill from my eyes, before I screw them shut, dragging the knife across my arm, creating jagged cuts. Blood immediately begins rising, flowing from the cuts, pooling around my arm which lay limp on the ground.

Perhaps I am going to end myself.

A figure appears in front of me. I catch a flash of [sandy blonde hair/perfectly quiffed black hair/short dirty blond hair/glamorous black hair] before falling into a black abyss, darkness enveloping me with welcoming arms.

but ik this is kinda short and random but I just wanted to put something out there for you guys to read and I'm sorry I haven't been on at all but iM HERE my life is a mess BUT I AM HERE

I kinda wanna call my readers something rather than 'readers' or liek 'fans' or 'friends' or smth so idk if you guys have any awesome names or smth I can call you guys by then please comment them

[here] <-- right there

/ READERS RANTS AND PROBLEMS /

Aye look it's self promoting this is me being cool

IG/ shuck.it.you.shanks

Twitter/ michaelssponge

Wattpad/ sorry i forgot

thANKS GUYS ILYSM

Posted: 06/19/15