August

It was a bad day.

My whole body seized up with pain. 

I hated myself.

I wished I had never existed.

Things would be better that way.

Tears stained my pillowcase. Tissues swarmed the rubbish bin. Clouds smothered the sky. My new book lay open at the foot of my bed. My records covered the carpet. After a poor attempt at distracting myself I couldn't take it anymore and gave up. 

I heard crying is good for you.