"pessimistic" // a short story • jalbert

2/12/18 // eightteen

it's 2:57 am and albert is sound asleep.

he is oblivious to what i'm about to do to myself.

i went into the bathroom and lifted my shirt. the cuts weren't bleeding, but not for long.

i locked the door to assure that nobody will burst in.

i lifted up the razor on the counter and drew over my previous swelling wounds.

i didn't feel anything.

i felt numb.

empty.

the blood poured out onto my pants creating a big red stain on them.

i grinned. ana says i deserve this.

there was a faint knock on the bathroom door and i quickly dropped the part of my shirt i was gripping.

"jake, i forgot to ask you, but can i take a shower in the morning?"

i set down the razor and paused for a second.

"of course, dude. you don't have to ask."

"alright, i'm goin' to bed, good night."

"good night, albert."

i melancholily sighed.

i opened up the medicine cabinet and grabbed the hydrogen peroxide to clean up the gashes. it was pretty obvious the previous cuts were mostly all infected.

fuck.

if i didn't feel anything before, i am definitely going to feel something now.