As I lick my razorblade clean from blood, I start to feel cold.
A chilly breeze whispers in my ear, I get reminded of the secret I hold:
I don't want this life.

I lay down my razorblade and pick up a knife.
Thousands of tears run down my cheek like a river, so cold.. so cold...

Desperately looking for pen and paper reminds me of what I in my right hand hold..
With the knife I start to carve my message on my naked skin.
The endless screaming of pain makes my body spin.

A message to my parents, telling them how much I love them,
telling them how sorry I am for my decisions and my mistakes.
"I can't go on when my heart aches."

A quick stab to fill out the point in the end of the sentence, and I fall to the bathroom floor.
As I hit the floor I hear a harsch knock on the door.
Crying voices, yelling: "Don't do it! Don't do it!"

My eyelids are slowly closing. I smile.
I hear myself quietly laughing for myself, satisfied of the decision I just made.
With my eyes closed and my last powers I squeeze out a few last words.
My last sentence.

"You were too late. All of you."