Today is the day... sweat beads up on my far head, hands shaking, lips quivering...

It's time, but am I ready? I can taste the bile coming up from my stomach to my mouth...

I cringe at the thought of leaving... But I need to run, run fast and far... running from myself, but I'm always there... How do I get away?

Death seems the only answer, as I pick up the knife, wondering if I have the courage to end the pain... I put the knife down slowly, scared and shaking...

I drop to my knees, weeping and confused...

I'm still here....