tourniquet

!!I did not write this, I read it. Depression and stuff. Put it here for fun for once. don't take it to heart.

[heero pov]
Thinking to myself, I wonder what if I was dead? The meaning of life, don't you think it has to be death? I can feel the tears bunch up in my eyes, but I push what I can away and try and empty my head. All I ever wanted was to know that you repeated my feelings. But . . . I suppose luck really is a rare thing. Or maybe everyone is given a jar full of it, and some spend it too fast, before they really need it, you know? My arm is burning again, a feeling I often get when I feel the need to cut myself. It's not that I feel it gives me a feeling of hurting those who have hurt me, just a feeling that at least I have power over something. And why shouldn't I have power over my own death? I have power over everything else I do in life. Besides, the Blade feels good on my skin.
Pulling the meat knife out from under my mattress I ran it over my cheek, than down my shoulder to dig a deep line down the lower half of my arm. Frowning at the pain I felt I stared down at the blood that was now dripping off of my arm on to the bed. Why am I so weak? In any and all ways, why am I so weak?
I hate myself for being so weak. And I hate everyone else for being so strong, in everyway, I hate them. Except you, for whatever strange reason I praise you. But I hurt you at the same time I know it. And I want to die. I want to die right know as I think. Tons of ways I could kill myself run through my head, only a few am I actually able to pull off with what I have. I know you're just as depressed as me, and I couldn't count how many times I've thought of us killing ourselves together. I wonder if that would disgust you, that I would want something so personal from you.
I wonder if you even think of me unless I'm standing there right in front of you. I’d like to think you do, but a voice in my head reminds me you wouldn’t, someone as strong as you wouldn’t want to be thinking of me.
I've tried to be strong though, but I seem to fail miserably each time, you know?
Maybe it's because I have such strong trust issues. But trust is a fragile thing, hard enough to make, most likely broken many times in the process, and even harder to maintain. But I've tried to let people, haven't I? They just tend not to put it back together once broken a few times. But what kind of a life is it, if it has no pain, and what kind of life is it when you have no comfort. Joy is a rare coin, a coin that seems to have become brittle and cracked. I wonder will we find the coin, walking up to it, but when we reach for it, will it shatter?
Has my mind shattered? Have I finally pushed myself too far? I know I've always tried so hard to be good enough for people to be able to say that I was good at something. And yet when I look at something I’ve done I know it’s crap, but someone else might see it and say it’s wonderful, but that just seems to hurt me more. Especially when you say it to me.
And I lie, I lie straight to your face, I lie to myself, lie to everyone around me. And I hurt myself even more. Maybe if I just stop stop everything I do, I won't hurt anymore. No, because the past will become my future. Living in the past hurts, living in the future is even more painful, because you don't know, and living in the present, is sad, seeing everything going on around you, and never taking any of it in.
My arm is stinging, burning in a way, I want to find a rope and hang myself. I want you to notice. But at the same time I want you to look away.
I can’t handle people caring so much about me I can’t handle them wanting to help me, being so nice. I always end up pushing them away, hurting them so as to stop me from hurting myself more. But that never works just adds more pain, knowing I did that hurt you and myself. But I've tried so hard not to hurt you like that, years it's lasted, but I'm becoming paranoid, I'm becoming scared. I can't handle all of this and everything is becoming static in my mind. I suppose I should go to the bathroom and tend to my arm, but I don't feel like it right now. The blood has already seep under my body, through the blankets.
It's strange to see your own blood, there's so much. Who would have known I could bleed so much? This is the deepest cut I've ever done. Do you suppose that maybe I really will die now? You asked me something today, saying I looked depressed. Were you worried, I wonder? Scared maybe? I lied to you saying I was just tired. I wonder if tomorrow, if I'm Not there at school with you, will you be sad? I don't want to hurt you, I really don't, but I suppose that's inevitable now, isn't it.
I'm tired now, I think I'll sleep. Yeah, sleep sounds good.
Did you know? Blood is warm, funny, huh?