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I ignore the question as I slam the door shut and lock it.
“Leave me alone! I need to think,” I yell.
I’m in a bit of a predicament.
I don’t know a way of coping.
I need to spend some time.
I need to figure this thing out.
With a sigh and the roll of my eyes,
I plop myself onto the queen-sized bed,
Hoping with everything I’ve got that I would just cease to exist.
In any world or on any timeline.
It doesn’t matter one bit when it comes to me.
I just don’t want to exist.
Period.
Bottom line.
It’s a pain just to exist.
You have to think about things you don’t want to.
You have to deal with emotions you don’t want to.
I close my eyes.
I breathe slowly and deeply,
Trying to clear my mind.
For a moment, it’s dead quiet.
Then I suddenly stand up.
I angrily rip my light blue, floral printed nightgown off of my body.
So many emotions ripple through me at this point.
I feel like I’m going to explode.
No. Not now. I have to get ready for work.
I struggle to shove the horrid, sickly feeling way down south.
Deep into the depths of my soul.
I search for a pair of scrubs in the dresser drawers and closet.
I suddenly stand in the middle of the room stark naked,
Trying to slow my racing breaths.
My vision blurs with tears.
I see a bright red boxcutter near the edge of the desk.
I approach, knowing full well what I’m about to do and not caring.
I swipe the sharp object from the desk.
I clench it tightly in my right hand.
“I want this to go away,” I whisper.
Tears roll along my cheeks and drip from my chin.
I make the first cut,
Pressing hard up against my skin,
Allowing the blood to be brought to the surface.
I then make a few more cuts in a more rapid succession.
It feels good.
It feels really good!
I like seeing my blood race along my arm.
I have the urge to lick it, but I don’t.
Do I have mental problems?
Yes, I know I do.
I’m not afraid of them.
In fact, I embrace them.
I give them all the love that they could ever want.
I watch as my ... - read more
- Agnes's Trail of Tears
- by AngexAmour
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