I Gave Up

When I shut my eyes, I could see an opaque thermometer. Every time I blinked, I could feel my body temperature drop a degree, and concurrently the mercury of the thermometer sunk lower into the depths of my skull. This was new, this was pure coldness; exhausting, never ending coldness. The pills never made me feel like this before. The higher I got, the more I felt the cement replacing my eyelids, sealing them shut at the crease. My fingers were stiff, my limbs numb, and all I could think about was my mom, and what she would say when they found me. Will she grieve for me? Will she be relieved, that living in fear of this moment is over? I should have cut myself off. My god, what was I thinking? I have to tell her it was an accident; I need to write it down. I can’t fucking move, I can’t even cry or scream; I’m just so unbearably tired. Does she know I love her?

Everything reached subzero, and froze. I felt almost the dullest sensation of pain where my heart should have been. This was it, I gave up, and I’m so sorry.