My little bath time

I think I've blown my brains against the celing

Steam rising from the calm waters. The calm lake of my bathroom tub. I stand before it. No clothes. just peering into the water never knowing where the bottom is. It seems to go on forever yet i can not ever reach it. I wish to drown in those waters. To let my body sink . The water closing my oxygen, my breath leaving me. And finally sleep. These warm waters. I Slowly enter those waters. Feet, legs, knees, Hips, belly, chest. The water stops there. My eyes close and low thoughts of yesterday's pass are set free. Out from those thoughts come anger, sadness, paranioa. I reach over, slowly as to not disturb these calm waters, and grab my release. That which helps me lets go of life's troubles, its pain and madness. This razor blade. The metal shines in the sunlight that comes through the window. Twirling it between my fingers, I look down at my chest. The scars of before. The chest. Where no one can see my scars, So hidden under shirts and jackets. I keep my scars from others. The blade in my hand. I press it against my skin. The metal so cold, I shudder and the coldness of nothing. Its tears a layer of skin, Slowly draging it across my chest leaving the mark. And out from that cut comes blood. My agression towards everyone, My sadness about everything. It all comes out. Here in this tub, my little lake, I am alone. My blood pours  out and settles on this water. never sinking, only floating on the waters surface. Flashing lights out the cornner of my eye. Its my phone, it is her, My angel. Sent to save me from this tourture. Im sorry angel, Im not meant to save, All i did was let you down. The lights go away. Leave me. The blood stops. The pain still remains. I lay there in my calm waters  The blood slowly washing away. The razor in my hand. Ready for another go. And it shall have its wish. The scars that no one shall ever see. Hidden. Always refreashed. All in these calm waters.

Author's Note

"Singing songs that make you slit your wrist,It isn't that much fun, staring down a loaded gun"

Reviews

[ruth]

this in intense, very descriptive and emotional as well. things like this is what makes emman call you emo. just to point it out. I like the imagery in this short story, i can visualize everything you do, and i know you dont cut yourself cuz u just txted me that you dont, but, the scars.
i love you
-ruth