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the anxiety ripples its way through my body, creeping up from the back of my brain just to fuck me over again and again. strangling me, choking and suffocating me until all the air has left my lungs and has escaped from my grasp. it creeps its way up from the depths of my soul, day after day, until i try and suppress it. but to no avail, i do not succeed. i never do and it seems as though i never will. i try and try, again and again, until the anxiety creeps back down to the depths of my being.

as i lay there, blood seeping through my black and white flowered nightgown, i contemplate if i’m truly needed to the people in my life. the only answer i ever get is no. again and again. this question plays over in my head, and i always receive the same answer.

i take the cold blade in between my trembling fingers and drag it across my white scarred skin. watching as the air stings my open wound, watching my hand ever so carefully. i take a washcloth and wipe way the blood that seems to be bubbling on my skin. i wince as the cold water on the cloth douses my skin. this. this is what its like to live when all you want to do is die.