I never went to anyone for help. I never burdened anyone with my problems. I'm a self healer, or so I thought. I guess I paid the price for that. I'm what you call "emo." I cut myself, do drugs, and I've done many things I'm not proud of. However, I've never asked for help.
I was about to do it. I was about to end my life. I was finally going to rid the world of my worthless existence. I had the gun to my head and everything. I just couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. Then you happened to come by. I sighed, got up, and walked to the door. My gun still in my hand.
I guess I was still crying a bit when I opened my door. You gasped covered your mouth, and I saw more shock, fear, and sadness on your face then I could stand. I fell to my knees, and I let myself cry. I just plain bawled; I couldn't stop. I could only manage two words as I looked back up at you with pleading eyes, "Help me."