Warnings:
Strong imagery of self harm.
Depressing
Sad
If you are sensitive to this kind of stuff please feel free to skip this story.
Drip, drip, drop down de-
The blood was dripping. One slow, cynical drop at a time. It fell on the tiled floor, almost screaming at me with its intense color. The symmetrical square tiles a mere pale grey sky against the deep dark red of my blood.
More tears fell as I slowly lifted my hand up to my wrist. There was already two open wounds and a million scars scattered haphazardly over my forearm. I looked down in mourning. My tears streaked across my face, as if in a race to see who could fall first. One dropped and fell into the pool of blood collecting on my arm. I watch as it mixed in with the red liquid so easily and I cried as I realized why. They belonged.
I brought the blade down in one long swoop, quickly making a gash that ran along the length of my crying wrist. I stood there for a second and watched as my slit slowly opened, like a flower just bursting after the spring months.
As I fell to the ground, my energy depleted, I held onto one last memory:
Her. The girl behind my sleepless nights and my painless mornings. Behind my scars and my crumbling heart. Behind my broken soul and my crushed spirit.
And I remembered — I remembered then why I had fallen in love. Because:
I didn't love her for the way she danced with my angels
But rather for the way her voice silenced my demons.
And then it went dark.