Sitting on the bathroom floor, feeling the cold tiles beneath my body, looking down at my crimson streaked thighs, wishing i  could take it all back. With tears flowing down my cheeks my face began to burn. holding the Silvery metallic blade in my hand, seeing the edge tinted scarlet. I stood up, conscious of the padding sound of my feet as I walked over to the trash. Tossing the razor into the trashcan hearing a muffled thud as it hit the bottom. As I sat back down, I began to cry again, a panic attack overwhelming me. Listening to my breaths catch in my throat making everything seem worse. The smell of rust and alcohol filled the air in the small room. Continuing to cry, tears falling into my mouth, causing me to taste the salty bitterness of my depression.

Standing again I looked at myself int he mirror, astounded by my eyes as they were bloodshot and a shocking bright blue underlined with that days makeup staining my ivory skin. Everything seemed hopeless, I didn't want to awake anymore. I walked into the kitchen, took more Advil than I should have; chasing them down with a glass of chilling milk before I made my way to bed to sleep away the pain, hoping to wake up to a better day.