I sat on the floor, my mind trying to comprehend what I had just done. The razor slipped out of my hand as I started to lose feeling in my fingertips.
I looked around the room- the images of my childhood, the empty beer bottles, the empty bag of cocaine from the gram I had snorted not an hour ago. The memories… the memories of everything, of what I had been, of what I had become.
‘It’s all done now. It’s all over.’ I thought… but was it? Would this be enough?
I gazed down at my work as the room started to blur. Each arm, split down the middle from wrist to elbow. I couldn’t even see the wounds anymore, there was just blood, blood everywhere. And all I could think of was how beautiful it looked, how perfectly executed everything had been. I tried to get up but fell back to the floor. Finally, it was taking hold.
I was going to die, and I wanted it… wanted it more than anything. I wanted them to hurt as much as they had hurt me.
Things started going black… it was time.
‘Come and get me, motherfucker’