I sat alone in a cornor of my abandoned house that was once a home. I tried to live life to the fullest. But life at it's fullest brought pressure, tons of it.
Outside I was a normal teenager, but inside my mind was screaming, I was all out of order.
My pleas were voiceless.
So much responsiblity, so much to do, so little time. I try so hard to get it all acomplished but theres so much to do. I just want to scream. But I can't, I have no time.
Sometimes I would like to have a break, its not a possiblility. It's a goal so far away, something I'll never reach, I relentlessly tell myself. But yet I continue attemptinmg to grasp it. But all I hold is another hollow sense of failure.
Never had time to be me. never have time for my now distant friends. So this is the best time of my life? There is some much still not touched, so much yet to experince.
Forver trapt and bound in this prison of my mind. Constantly rediculed in my mind. I consume all the criscim and hate, use it as fuel to cut off myself from the world.
I am walking down a path of broken glass and rusty razor blade. Every step I take, agonizing pain hits me. Every drop of blood I bleed is a memory of a better time.
I paint my usual fake smile on this mask of false happiness. I try to cry but my mask will not let me, my eyes are dry. I am untrue to myself.
My soul is in a coma and no one seems to notice. Slowly dying in the hell of my mind, perishing in the suffering.
No one can detect my sorrow. My heart charred balck. I have no where to run. I am drowning and no one is saving me.
Each slit of the wrist brings me closer to scared happiness, deeper and deeper, faster and faster. I cut leaving behind my sorrows and hardships. Until I bleed myself to death. Living life to the fullest lead me to my bloody tradgic death.