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Rated: E · Monologue · Dark · #2014489
Depression Written a long time ago.
As I lay in my warm bed pondering the days happenings, with my bedside lamp glowing happily through my open room. Curled up in the foetal position with my hand tightly clutching at my knees and feeling somewhat sombre and possibly tired, things start to change around me, unexpectant? Yes.. but these where certainly not new feelings.
What was once a warm room suddenly turning Icy cold like razorblades cutting on my throat and penetrating the pores of my skin, lips start to chap and my complexion turns a ghostly shade of white, silence begins to loom over me so much so that I can concentrate on the buzzing of the voltage supplying my surroundings with energy and then quicker then expected all sound is lost and im trapped within the walls of my own mind.
Clutching at myself and closing my eyes desperately trying not to let go of my security heart pumping at least double the speed it should pounding pain against my chest trying almost as hard to escape as me.
Panic sets in as warm tears fall like Tar down my sorry looking face.
Opening the shutters to the soul the light is blinding and magnified in my welling eyes, eyelids feel heavy... in fact my whole body feels heavy and numb as if something is pulling at my feet trying to drag me down.
Who am I?, why am I?... and what is my purpose?...

Looking down and shuffling so my knees are now firmly against my chest I purposely catch a glimpse of old scars, softly stroking them in a scratching manor, then raising my hand to my face I wipe away glistening diamond streaks from my right cheek then resting my wrists in my mouth as if the scars had burst into open wounds Again.
Sucking turning slowly into bites, leaving indents in my fragile skin I start to notice for the first time that I appear to be rocking in time with my heartbeat like a metronome backwards and forward keeping me in perfect tune.
Have I Gone mad as well now? Possibly.
Throwing my hands flat onto my bed I lift myself off transferring the pins and needles to my wrists.
I can't let this go on any longer I weakly think to myself I have to stop, yet.... I know full well what is to follow as I search my room desperately for a sharp natured object.

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