This is the tale of my life., chapter 2
I sat there stunned. How? Why? When? All these questions began to race through my mind at once and I don't like it! I couldn't belive it! My little girl, Hero, gone just like that. I felt the tears forming round my eyes. After some heavy drinking I sat on the bathroom floor crying and wimpering. You might think it's stupid...a grown man crying. But what would you do if you find out that your child had been driving half way across the state?! You tell me!
I saw a razor blade...no, I won't, or will I? At the precsie minute that blade looks damn, fucking appealing. I can't help it! I have to. People say don't cut. For me, it takes away the pain what the alcohol cannot. I slash the top of my arm and just watch the blood fall down onto the floor. I hate the sight of blood, but I think I can stand the sight of my own blood. Meh.
Then the pain kicks in. I hiss a bit just like a snake I stand up and walk out not bothering with the light on the way out. I go downstairs and then crash out on the couch, blood still dripping down on my arm like a river. I decided to write something.
Why? Why did you leave? leave me here to die?
Am I one of the face-less people left to lie?
I thought I was something specail,
But now I see, I was nothing.
Why do you hate me? What have I done wrong?
All the questions race through my mind,
I watch time tick by and by,
But you don't return,
And you never will.
How many times can I say it?
How many times can I say I'm sorry?
Yes I'm sorry.
How can something be good go so bad?
How can something so right go so wrong?
I don't know, I dont have a good plan
But I must confess,
How many times can I say I'm sorry? I finish the note and sighed.
Tears ran down my face as I thought of Stella, my child. And now, she's gone.
Gone like the wind. I sighed again, there was nothing else to do then, I saw something, something..black. I went over to it. It was a black crayon.
I looked at it and then thought. Then just out of randomness...
I began to draw on the wall. I was sort of confused of what I have done this for. I stood back and looked at the thing I had drew.
A black ring.
I saw a razor blade...no, I won't, or will I? At the precsie minute that blade looks damn, fucking appealing. I can't help it! I have to. People say don't cut. For me, it takes away the pain what the alcohol cannot. I slash the top of my arm and just watch the blood fall down onto the floor. I hate the sight of blood, but I think I can stand the sight of my own blood. Meh.
Then the pain kicks in. I hiss a bit just like a snake I stand up and walk out not bothering with the light on the way out. I go downstairs and then crash out on the couch, blood still dripping down on my arm like a river. I decided to write something.
Why? Why did you leave? leave me here to die?
Am I one of the face-less people left to lie?
I thought I was something specail,
But now I see, I was nothing.
Why do you hate me? What have I done wrong?
All the questions race through my mind,
I watch time tick by and by,
But you don't return,
And you never will.
How many times can I say it?
How many times can I say I'm sorry?
Yes I'm sorry.
How can something be good go so bad?
How can something so right go so wrong?
I don't know, I dont have a good plan
But I must confess,
How many times can I say I'm sorry? I finish the note and sighed.
Tears ran down my face as I thought of Stella, my child. And now, she's gone.
Gone like the wind. I sighed again, there was nothing else to do then, I saw something, something..black. I went over to it. It was a black crayon.
I looked at it and then thought. Then just out of randomness...
I began to draw on the wall. I was sort of confused of what I have done this for. I stood back and looked at the thing I had drew.
A black ring.
