This isn’t fair

I wake up with the taste of iron in my mouth, my bedclothes wet between my thighs. The pain registers like fists to my gut leaving me unable to breathe. A shriek comes out of my mouth, tiny, and worthless, and helpless. No. A blackness spreads throughout my sheets. I roll myself off the bed with a thump. 

I turn on the lights.

It was everywhere. Please god no. No. No. 

They said they found me, trying to shove back inside what blood pooled on the white tiles. Scooping it up and cooing it, cradling it; then screaching this isn’t fair! This isn’t fair.

Stew

You would let me die.

Without a twitch, without moving an inch.

You’d even push me into the boiling pot, keep me in it, screaming; like a demented stew.

I might not scream. I probably wouldn’t plead to be let go. You’re right.
I’m horrible. I did these things to you. I destroyed and ruined you.

I’ll jump into the pot myself.

My hands shake as I cut my meds into their individual foil and plastic packets. My eyes hurt from my constant scratching, wishing the tears would stop and my eyeballs fall out from their sockets. My left arm shows the trail of blood I made from cutting a vein on my wrist. Salt drops still fall on the floor. Why won’t they stop? Please make them stop. I can’t stop crying please help me i don’t know what to do i just want it to stop. Please i just want it to stop.

Please forgive me, dearest.i’m sorry, im so so sorry.