Do you ever think of death? It doesn't make a person so fragile, you know. You don't need treat me like broken glass that will crumble at your touch. I see the way you look at me. I’m a monster to you. A daemon. I’m a creature so pittiful it slices it’self just to stay alive; so low in self esteem it starves itself to breathe. You don’t want to question me. You fear my suicide. You worry that you shall trigger me. You don’t have that sort of power. You don’t even know me.

How can I tell you this? How can you ever understand? How will you feel what I feel? How can I tell you that I have no soul, that I am a mistake. Will you believe me that I have thought out the options? I am not worth the air I breath or the food rushing down my system. I am not worth the pain I will cause when I am gone. Every way I lose; every way I die. Every way I hurt someone as much as I hurt inside. I need you to understand that I do not want to die; I simply wish I was never born.

I want to tell you that God fucked it up. He made a body without a soul. I’m not worth being better. I know that I’m not human like the rest of them. I need you to see that I’ve been dying for a long time. Don’t you know that you can’t bring back the dead. Can’t you see that I’m a decomposing corpse that’s been wrapped up in fat and skin. I’m just trying to revert the unnatural process that is my life.

I used to think my soul moved on and left me waiting here. I’ve come to the realization it never existed. I was a mistake. I’m a body with no soul. I need to die. I need to fix the mistake. I need to fix it. It wouldn’t be suicide. You cannot kill what was never truley alive to begin with.

I need you to understand. Nothing you can say would make me kill myself. You don’t know that every day I exist I think I think of my death. My beautiful suicide. What is one moment of thinking shared with you rather than alone with you going to do? What can you possibly say? I have already crumbled; the shards of glass are in my skin.

-Sapphire

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