The bitter aftertaste of pain killers
and the soothing tingles of pain sweep me off into the gentlest of
calms. I can feel my body relax. My headache's almost gone, and the
blood has dyed my shirt sleeve the most stunning red of reds.I really don't feel well. I really
don't feel well. I must keep my pencil on the page, or else it will be
set upon my skin--carving, carving away. Please. Please.My head
will explode. My hand has been writing too long. My fingers are
cramped, and my legs are asleep, but I must--I MUST fight the urge. Do
not cave. Do NOT Cave. Let tears fall, but do not cave. Think.
Happy. Flowers. Beauty. Beauty that I will never have. No! Think
sunshine--though I prefer the rain. SMILE. Because it screws up my
face and makes me look more horrid than usual. Try and do something
good. I am no good. Not at this. Not at anything. Can no one save
me? Well, no one cares. And I must save myself. Sadly enough, I don't
pay enough mind to me to be able to accomplish just that. Will I cry?
Don't cave. Too many people around. Don't cave, even when alone.
Don't cave. Don't cave. Don't cave.

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