eyes welling, body shaking, heart pounding, as her tearing eyes make forceful contact with the ones looking back at her in the mirror.
the heartache, the pain, the loss of hope and dignity was all too much as her small hands and red fingernails wrapped around the small pocket knife.
looking up again to the mirror, she could no longer recognize the girl who was standing before her. her reddened eyes, sulking lips, and tears washed away the girl she used to know.
now she was just a figment of her depression as it overwhelmed every inch of her struggling body.
trembling hands placed the knife just under her rolled up sleeve, pressure placed upon the arm as the silver weapon glided across her skin leaving nothing but a trail of blood.
how good it felt to her for the pain she suffered to be physical rather than emotional, just for once. oh god, how good it felt.
mental illness is not a joke, do not treat it like one.