8:53am

Maybe its not so bad...

When I'm dead, I couldn't be more invisible than I already am. I look at my arm , the rough patches, scars, bruises left behind. Maybe if I cut deep enough might slit a vain. that sweet cranberry fluid leaking through, staining my blade and bedroom floors.
What if I choke on pills, accidents happen. Maybe i'll take that rope. Maybe I need some help, before this hungry blade gets its last meal, or the pills slither their way lodged into my throat, before I hover over the wooden floor of my empty room. A place I should feel safe, I search for it in the back of my mind.