I sit with crisp lined paper and a pencil in my hands. The once clean paper is dotted red with the blood from my wrists. My minded summons all the possible words that could be written. I can only manage seven words: I'll see you on the other side. And with that, the blade digs deeper into my skin than it's ever been before. With my last breath I let out the word 'goodbye'.
Leslie
2 Likes
2 Comments