hypershadow34

My dearest child, do not weep, for I am here to wipe your tears away. Come, let us be free of these blankets; let us walk from these dim halls.     There lies what once was your body, fevered and eaten by disease. Your lips are cracked and bleeding, your arms are both thin and sallow. Do not fear them now, for they are long passed.    Come away now, for we must say your final goodbyes. Here to the mother and father that came to your bedside each day. Here to the brother, who shall honour your name. Do not be jealous of them, my dearest child. For you are simply moving ahead; you have not fallen behind.    “But why, why does it hur

You want to end it? Think of this. You write your suicide note... And you set it on the table. You take your razor, your silver, two inch razor. And you start to slide it across your wrist. You barely feel a thing. After all, the pain of life is more than the pain of the blade. And you take that belt you never wore, the one that was too tight, the one you starved yourself to fit into. And you wrap it once, twice around your neck... and you pull it tight. Barely breathing, you put the ends of the belt on something to hold you up. Something to strangle you. Something to kill you. And you die. And that's the end, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.