I am falling.

Falling into a bottomless pit that is my life.

Nothing ever goes right.

I am a self-mutilator.

I plan my suicide every night.

. . . . and yet. . . . I'm still falling.

Never hitting the bottom.

I start at myself in the mirror.

White hair and dull lifeless brown eyes.

I glance at my arms.

To many cuts.

To many to count.

I glance back and gaze into my reflections eyes.

They're begging me.

My reflection's begging me to go through with it.

Finally be done.

I pick up my knife and stare at the blade.

Such a small thing could satisfy me.

All I want . . . . .

I look into the reflections eyes again.

Hoping . . . .

Begging . . . .

I'll satisfy that person in the mirror.

I'll make his dreams come true.

I slit my writs and watched as the blood slowly slips down my hand.

The drops falling to the floor, making little circles on the tiles.

I look again in the mirror.


Finally satisfied.

I smile and so does he.

I still stare at him, even when it seems that darkness is closing in around me from every side.

But still I stand.

Now the only thing not covered in darkness is his eyes.

Such a dull lifeless brown, now, after so long, happy.

Then I fall.

I was always falling.

Falling into the bottomless pit that is my life.

I look behind me and smile.

The bottom.

I laugh as I hit the floor . . . the bottom of the pit.

Funny . . . now I wish I could tell him . . . . the boy in the mirror . . . that I am finally happy . . . . and that there is a bottom to a bottomless pit.


OK . . . . That was weird . . . . and random. . . . ;;