Snow. I opened my eyes and the snow was falling, converting the world around me into an unused canvas. It was just settling, too early for human disturbance or the sun's poison rays. I dreaded the morning and all the activity it brought with it — the people, the cars, the pressure to do something productive. Mornings are horrible, imposing things; I much prefer the quiet of the night. It was cold, and I lay wrapped up in far too small an amount of layers. Above my head, the sky was expansive and blank. There was no#moontonight, and no clouds; it was a blanket of solid white, flecks peeling off and curdling to the ground. Yet, I felt nothing different and no urge to try. As my fingers turned red and my teeth began to chatter, I cuddled up to my companion, Nighttime. I was numb long before the snow came. A/N: I haven't been on this app in ages. Is anyone still there?

So Many Tears. Too Many Tears. Normally, if I tell myself to stop crying, I can. But right now…right now I can't stop myself. My throat's constricted and tears keep rolling down my face by the bucket load. I'm dead inside. I don't know, I feel like the emotion's been scooped out of me. I don't know what to do with myself. I can't do anything but cry. Sob and sob and sob and not tell anyone. Not let her know how bad I feel. Put her first. Don't be selfish. Give her what she needs. I'll deal with my own emotions on my own, to allow her to deal with hers. This fucking hurts.

. . . Birds in the sky, they've all gone to bed. Drops have faded into puddles and the leaves are dead. No-one's alive at this time of night. I'm all alone and basking in the moonlight. But can anybody hear this sad little song, Which echoes down the alleyways where I most belong? Is anybody out there, huddled up in their homes, Willing to listen to someone with no where to go? Although, that's a lie: I do have somewhere to be. Where I live without living and remain trapped without a key. However, that's somewhere where I'm not me. And if I'm not me, it's not me there, you see? The sky keeps on darkening and clouds cover the moon I see my bus approaching, and I'll be 'home' soon. But if 'home is where the heart is', then that place is just a shelter. And my home is with her, my rock, my closure.

To accept others, you need to be open-minded. For other people to accept you, you need to follow their rules. I have the wrong mentality for living in this world.

Too Late “Can you hear me? Are you hurt?” /I'm not hurt,/ I think with the part of my brain not pounding against my skull or being electrocuted with pain. “I'm not hurt.” I think I managed to mumble that to the swimming, unidentified figure above me. All I can make out is brown hair and pale skin, glowing like an out-of-focus photo on a camera screen. “I'm not hurt…” This isn't hurt. Hurt is too petty a word for this. All I can taste is blood, all I can smell is blood, all I can feel is…well, I can't feel anything, because I've lost too much blood. Blood. My blood. Scarlet liquid, hot scarlet liquid, oozing out of me onto the blurred floor in giant, unblemished puddles. Light mixed with dark, slight cuts mixed with deep wounds. No, this isn't hurt. I pick up strands of words with my working ear: “He's delusional … He's losing consciousness … We need to stop the bleeding … stay awake… ” I don't register what they're saying, and my eyelids continue to droop. I don't want to stay awake. I don't want to live and bleed and feel. I don't want my brain to keep being tortured, or my heart to keep leaping against my broken ribs. I want my rest. After this, I want to close my eyes and never have to open them again. Yet a part of me protests and I still hear the movements and words around me, but it's as though it's from the end of a tunnel. Faint. Distant. A dream. A nightmare. My limbs ache. I can't lift them. I can feel pressure on them as the people try to attend to me, but I can't detect the texture of their skin or absorb the heat they emit. It's as though I'm numb, but I can feel all the throbbing in my muscles and open veins. Pain? Is this pain? Real pain? Lying sprawled on a cold floor somewhere, light-headed and unable to move in a pool of my own blood? No. Pain is better than this. Much better. With pain you're alert, you can stop your eyes rolling back into your skull and see the people around you, you can battle out of the compressing darkness slowly advancing from the corners of your mind. I can't. I can't stop it. I can't stop my death even though I know it's imminent. They can't stop it either. They came too late. A few more seconds and I'll find my relief. Five. Just a little more of this, and it'll all go away. Four. I can't resist now, not when it's so close…It's so close! Three. The end. The frantic voices have faded away. Everything's quiet. My chest constricts. No. This isn't right, I don't like this! Two… Agony. It was agony, right? One… No. That wasn't agony. It felt like agony, but it wasn't. Not compared to this. At least I felt human before. This isn't relief. Stop. No. Let me go, let me back, please, let me back— …Zero. I'm gone.