Blade Of Glass

The bathwater runs into the tub. I lock the door. Start to undress. I don’t bother looking into the mirror. I bust it. I hate reflections. They don’t show the truth. They lie. They’re horrible things. Pieces of glass shatter, I laugh as they fall against the floor. I look at the pretty crystals. They shine. I pick up a nice blade of shimmering glass. I go over to the bathtub, sit on the edge. Taking the knife, while drawing a deep breath, I slit. The blood flows. I laugh. It’ll be over soon. Oh, thank God. All this pain, misery, despair. All will be over soon.

I step into the shower. The blood is pouring freely out of my veins. I lick it. It’s salty. It’s the prettiest red I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I turn on the water. It’s scalding hot. I’m hoping this will burn away my pain inside my soul. It doesn’t. I scrub. I scrub until my skin is raw. Still, I am not pure again. My wrist is still bleeding, as little tiny rivers of blood washes down the drain. I start to cry. My tears get absorbed into the water, and are dissolved. They wash away, down the drain, and no one shall ever know. I cry out, “I’m sorry, Mother. I’m sorry I was such a horrible child. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you so badly. You’ll never have to deal with me hurting you again.” I cry out to my father, “I’m sorry, Father. I’m sorry I’ve let you down. I’m sorry I’ll never be homecoming queen, like you’ve always dreamed for your little princess. I’m sorry to have destroyed your dreams.” I cry out to my brother, “I’m sorry, Danny, I’m so sorry that I’ve failed you as a sister. I’m so sorry that I’m so weak and can’t take anymore. I’m sorry. I love you all. I’m so sorry. Please, God, Please, please forgive me. I love you.” I cry out once more,”I’m sorry, my love. I truly love you. My feelings can’t ever be expressed in words. I love you. I love you so much. I love you with all my heart and soul and everything in between. I love you. Please, don’t ever forget me.” I continue to bleed. Things are getting blurry, I can’t focus. Everything’s mixing into one. I’m dying. I laugh. I fall backwards. I’m dying. I now realize that. I will never be alive again. I will never feel pain or sadness. But yet I continue to die. I’m lying there, sprawled out naked, in a bathtub with the shower’s water pouring down on me. I know this is the end.

I feel so terrible. So, so terrible for what I have done. I know how much pain I am going to cause. I think of everyone who will miss me. I think of the sorry bastards that have hated me, totally despised me for fucking years. I will get them. They will be sorry, I laugh to myself. They will all be fucking sorry. But, alas, revenge is not why I’m doing this. Self-hatred? Ha. Maybe. You’d think so, the way I dispise my every move and action, and the way I mutilate myself in so many ways. It’s nerve-wrecking. And that’s why I like it. I’m just a sadistic fucking child. I’ve always been one, and I will always be one. Even after I die. I waste away into nothing. It’ll still remain. I sigh, and try to drown myself in the sorrow, the despair that I feel so intensly. It’s eating away at my soul, or at least, what’s left of it. There is no time to feel guilt now, however, because the time has come for me to die. I close my eyes. And get ready to live in eternal paradise.