Random Self-Quarrells and arguments.

Smooth.

The knife comes into contact with my skin. It slides right through my chest as I thrust with every single bit of energy in my body. My head aches. My blood drips. I pull it smoothly back out of my chest. I spin the knife in my hand as I hold it up to my neck, praying this might be my last breath. Nothing in this world would make me happier. Not a kiss from the one I loved, not a hug from the one who loved me. Just a final breath. Trust me, if you were in my situation youd feel the same. My father beats me, my mother is constantly dissapointed in me. I am a dissapointment. Arent I? I try so hard to help other people, fit in, make a difference. That never happens.