I was slumped over the side of my bed when I heard the chime from my phone. I scrambled around looking for it, lost in what seems like a never-ending duvet.
"Fount it!" I exclaimed.
The message read: 'I'm sorry, I'm not sure I feel the same. I'm very overwhelmed right now. Let's still talk like normal though?' Typical from her. She was a slut for attention and most likely marginally manipulative. Doesn't want to be with me but craves what we used to have without any strings attached. I'm speculating that she wants to have fun with other guys and girls. Get what she wants from them and then leave when they crave the attention back. I'm smart though, I won't let that happen to me. Right? I typed back rapidly. It read: 'kay, whatever. Don't know why I said anything anyways lol'. Just like that I sent it.
"Fuck sake, why me."
Why has nobody come to my rescue? Why has nobody helped me or checked on me? I was alone. Like always. I sprung up right, and swung round to my desk drawer. Opened it and dived in for a quick rummage. The tears rolling down my cheeks quickly formed streams as I searched through the crap. At last, I pulled out a shaving razor, tore it out of its packaging and struggled as I popped a blade out. I held it to my arm and kept it there for a minute contemplating if it was really needed this time. Shouldn't people like me die a slow painful death? Not a couple few cuts and call it day like always. Fuck, what should I do.
"That's right. I need to take a slow plunge to death."