:: Suicide ::
02:00 | view comments
Tired.

Drained.

Exhausted.

I hate this feeling.

I can barely move.

Pain.



That is my punishment.

Sleep is my sanctuary.

If only it would come.

I want to be numb.



A handful of pills should do it.



Damn this muscle pain.



This is what I get for killing myself last Wednesday. I can't run like I used to. My legs aren't used to this kind of abuse anymore - and now they're letting me know it.

I hope I'll be fine by Saturday. Then I can kill myself again - this time playing futsal all day.