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Suddenly the small price I paid weekly became daily. Bleeding became normal, I watched it run down my porcelain skin and fall onto the pink tile-flooring. Soon every time I went to pee in that nauseating colored bathroom I felt the urge to grab the blade and push down. I just wanted to feel again, release the pain. It would build, grow, and manifest within me, like a weed spreading rapidly through my innards. Soon the weed began to grow outside of me, becoming impossible to ignore.
The day had finally come. I knew it was coming anyway, I wasn’t really quite sure what I was stalling for. Perhaps I still had that one glimpse of hope that things would in fact get better, just like all the videos on the Internet had promised. But they were wrong. They were all wrong. And I thought this over and over again as the bottle of pills stared me back in the face, mocking me, screaming how much of a coward I was for hesitating.
Things were going to get better. And they did. All I had to do was empty the bottle and wait.