Have you ever been cutting something and stopped and stared at that knife and thought
what if?
Because that's exactly what I was thinking that day.
I was around 11 when I first went to uni. I was cutting up some strawberries and the knife looked so soft, so calming, so familiar. So when I placed it upon my skin, I woke up in a small compacted room with a seemingly nice, but annoying, energetic girl. Her name was Finch. I know, that seems so fake, and maybe it was just a nickname, but I decided to call her Goldy
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I started with the kitchen counters and the sink, wiping and scrubbing the stains of coffee and old food away. I figured I would just mop when I was done with the whole house.
I cleaned out the cupboards and threw most of it away, it was all expired.
The fridge was the worst, old and mushy food is horrifying.
I found a few dead mice in the lower cabinets.
When I was under there, I saw something that made my heart drop.
It was my old suicide letters, hoping that one day my mom would find them and she'd love me and care for me.
She never did.