As she sits alone in her room, she wonders and writes what she did that day. She remembers how she ruined a very special girl, a special moment that they could have shared. That girl, listens to the darkest music trying to calm her nerves. Trying but not succeeding. She's trying to cover up the bruises she caused on her legs and arms, the cuts on her wrist she tries to hide. She's only hiding from herself. The girl she loves has hatred against her and is no longer alive because she died of starvation. This girl, she wonders, 'this girl was my world and now she's gone'. Trying to hold back what she thinks is tears, blood slides down her face, her eyes are bleeding. She takes the blade that's been dulled from cutting, and slices her skin wide open showing the scars that were behind that same slit. She cuts deeper into her skin until she finally passes out from blood loss. The girl eventually died alone in her room. The note she left next to her blade read;
Dearest love, I know I let you down. I know I could have saved you. I'm sorry for not helping you before it was too late. I love you. Farewell.
Nobody cared that she had died. Life went on. Life went on like nothing ever happened to that girl. And she killed herself for no reason, her lover was still alive, dying, but still alive. She thought that if she died that her love would die too. And it did. People she cared about most, went on like nothing happened, like she was never there. Her biological parents lived their lives like they always had. Her adoptive mother kept going on like she never existed. Nobody cared.
Nobody cares.
Everybody [S]ee's [He]r wrists. [D]oes L[i]fe S[e]e her bloo[d]?
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