What does tomorrow hold? I ask myself and I strongly wrap my fingers around my pillow gripping with all my strength and anger that resides in me. My head is heavy, my eyes sunken and hallow. I visualize drifting away, but soon brought back to reality as his face flashes in my depressed mind.

Too consumed in my thoughts to feel any sort of physical sadness, I grab the knife out of the block in the kitchen. I walk as fast as I can to the bathroom, which doesn’t seem fast enough. Slamming my hands on the cold marble countertops I hover over the pale sink. Stop stop stop you are ruining everything. He’s gone. You have nothing. You are nothing. I bend down, pulling my hair, wiping the tears, wondering why my emotions are eloping me into some sort of darkness. I don’t even feel like a person. The pain is all I feel, but none of it seems real. I don’t seem real. The physical flesh only a mere reflection of what represents me. I look up, to find a monster, a bloody heartbroken monster. The bags under my eyes were no representation of how emotionally draining my life seemed. I was too afraid to confront it, to ashamed to care that I was that monster. I had no one to blame but myself, but being the thought-consumed person I am I had no choice but to prove I was still alive. I stare at the blade, a clear depiction of power yet also desperation and weakness, all taking control of me at once.