she wished for the misery to end, for the people around her to stop making her feel terrible about herself. she was tired of trying, of making them believe she had a good heart, she was done with the world.

with a light heart, and a broken bottle, she entered the room. her parents weren't home, neither was her brother; it was the perfect time. she drank a bit of the vodka left, she took a drag of the last cigarette. she said goodbye to her blade and sat on her bed; the warmth of the comforter felt good against her ice cold skin. lying down on her bed, she smiled; she was finally getting what she wanted. just as she went to cut her hand with the bottle, her hand stopped functioning, she tried her best, but it was no use.

she wished death was this easy.