i'm (not) okay, i promise

tw// sh

i’m so sick 

no one dreams like i,

slitting my wrist.

watching the red,

            pour.

tears pooling from the pain,

hand shaking.

the knife drops,

i hear it clatter on my floor,

my head spins,

and i find myself lying next to the knife.

darker and darker and darker.

i smile.

i’m happy.