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The knife got the better of me, now i know that there probably wont be a tommarow i lie on the cold floor soaking in my own blood and shaking i lie in my puddle of sorrow, I'm not all the way out yet but Im almost there I wonder who will find me first and thats when i got scared This is real, not just a silly thought I've actually done it, Ive commited the deed, Its all my fault , its all on me from shaking and cold, laying on the bloody floor to a feeling of flying, one that lets me soar I look down below and I see myself just laying there and i think in horror what did i do? My fight with depression has finally come to an end but as I look down at myslef, lifeless, pale, and dead I realize, that by doing this,I didnt win
will I be here tommarow? or will the knife in my hand take over? will i even attempt to explain myself? Is this worth having to say goodbye? I want it painless and fast but i want to feel the pain leaving me why cant i bring myself to do it? why do these chapters never end? its time for this book to be closed even if it never opens again
Will There Even Be A 2moro?