I am not sure I know anymore. I like the taste of blood after cutting myself. My air seems like it is growing short. The turmoil of brokenness. I want to be accepted. 

Our of Vodka and painkillers he weeps. Regressing into the abyss of his thoughts he is desperate for affirmation. Fuck me he says with a look into the darkness. Why do others have life so easy. Why do people keep shitting on me. 

He looks into the mirror unthinkable that he puts the gun to his head. Just to feel alive he pulls the trigger. Thankfully the misfire. He is such a pussy he can't even kill himself.