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The blade dragging across his skin, in its waking, blood soon followed. Pills of blood soon forming in the cut, next to many others on his thigh. Some old, and some new. The pain feeling like an escape. An escape from the pain in his chest and head, now only on his thigh. Pure euphoria radiated off of shadow milk as he felt the warm stinging pain. But once the high ran down, he felt guilt. Guilt at the fact he was doing this to himself.
Self destruction.
Every time he did this he forgot the aftertaste of penny’s in his mouth. The ringing in his ears. The pain in his head and heart. But he always remembered one thing.
He always stopped crying. It stopped the worry, stopped the fear, stopped the panic.
His eyes still burned from crying as he flopped down onto his bed, now lying down on his back, looking at his ceiling.
He knew he was going to do it. He had wrote the letters, gave away his things, and already had a plan.
Everyday he daydreamed about how he was going to kill himself. The easing relief that came from the mere thought of tying the rope as the world got dark around him made him cry with joy.
He knew it was a selfish thing to do. To end your life, I mean cookies go through the same thing, and they don’t die.
Is he truly that weak?
It matters no more. Nothing he did mattered anymore. He was going to do it anyway. He didn’t care how his parents would feel, how his mother would cry for days. How his friends would mourn his loss. He just didn’t care.
The empty sound of his room filled the air, nothing but a fan blowing made a sound. He soon drifted to sleep in exhaustion and quiet helplessness.
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In his dream he was at recess again, just like he was when he was younger. The smell of the air was a tender and nostalgic, the air around him felt a small bit humid, but not muggy.
He saw the old playground from when he was little, still having his favorite set of monkey bars.
He walked towards the small rock wall on the side and climbed it to the top, sitting at the edge of it when he got to the top.
He felt like he was little again. When he had no worries, no problems, no pain.
It could almost bring him to tears, the wind hitting his skin just right, the smell of plastic and the sight of the sun beginning to slowly set in from of him. It felt.. perfect.
Just as he relaxed his shoulders and took a deep breath in and out the sky got dark, fast. A black void invaded the sky, and the ground began to flood with a dark black sludge.
He soon found himself floating off the playground. Falling deeper and deeper into the void as it swallowed him whole.
His skin felt cold, goosebumps rushing up his arms and legs, his hair floating in the void as if the world around him had no gravity, just mindlessly floating.
He began to cry, left alone once again. And this time with no distractions, only him and his mind remained an a pit of endless darkness.
He didn’t know why he was crying. He just need to.