The room spun uncontrollably. All that anger crashed and turned back into force fed misery, clinging to ever thought. Desperation is a funny thing. How desperate does someone have to be to hurt themselves to cure pain? I’m not even sure if that statement makes sense. To cure a pain with a different kind of pain… Well call me what you like. I never chose to wake up and be desperate. It’s what I am, whether I like it or not.

It felt like someone shut off the lights, and all I could do was stumble helplessly through the dark. Entering a room I had found myself growing too familiar with, I locked the door behind me without even giving it a second thought. What I had tried to move on from, had just become another daily routine.

sometimes I just wish I could erase my past. Maybe then, I could start over. Memories and regrets wouldn’t plague my thoughts. Maybe I could make things right for once. Maybe my dad wouldn’t hate me. My mom would notice my existence. And more importantly, I could keep Ashley from leaving…

The thing about it was, I hated being this person. I hated myself so much it physically hurt sometimes. I wanted to change. I’d give just about anything to be someone else. If I could fix anything though, I’d make sure I hadn’t brought anybody down with me. If I really loved these people, I wouldn’t have done this to them.

Taking a deep breath, I knew how to relieve this pain. I knew exactly where to leave the remains of memory so painful, it would eat me alive from the inside. Fingers trembled as I held a firm grip on this sharp edge. It lightly grazed my skin, almost outlining the course it was planning it take. A shaking hand gripped harder onto the only hope there seemed to be left. Taking a deep breath, I pushed down…