I can hear them. They are chanting the same words every heart beat. I can feel my pulse in my neck beating in time with the words, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone.

Words that are my pares. Words that I hear every second, of every day. As I feel my pulse I think how easy it would be to take up my blade, cut through the thin layer of skin in my neck and end the pain. I see the tree in my mind, I am wearing the purple flowing dress, gently swaying. Blood dripping off the words carved in my arm “told you I was sick” and “ sorry”. I can even see the note I have written stuffed un my bra, the only place I could put it.

“ Dear family and friends. I am sorry that I have hurt you by taking my life but it was the only way out. I hope you can understand that I did this for me. I am happy now. I wanted what was best for you. You deserve better than me. Please forgive me. I want you to, and don't think for one minute that I haven't appreciate everything you've done. Its not your fault. I am sorry”

I hear the call of my blade. I will not answer to my dirty mistress. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. And so I say good night to the voices and the thoughts. I will see you when I wake up. Will this madness ever end??

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