I want to cry.

I don't want to leave him. I don't want to.

It's already hard knowing that I'll be gone tomorrow, knowing that I might never see him again, knowing that even if I do see him again, he probably won't remember me.

It's even harder when he tries to stop me.

Even harder when he tells me that he would care. Even harder when I know it's true.

That he would care.

I want to pick up a knife. Cut, cut, cut, until there is nothing left to feel, until there is nothing left to give. Until there is no emotion.

Until red spirals across the ground and coats it better than sidewalk chalk ever could.

Until I disappear.

I want to sob and scream while rain pours down around me, so that nobody can see my tears.

It would be so much easier if I didn't care.

If I didn't love Axel.

It would be so easy.

Like it's easy to take my life.

This may be the easiest thing I've ever done.

Pull out the gun.

Bring it to the skin above my heart.

Pray that it won't strike the breastbone. Pray that it'll go straight through, so that I'll die of a broken heart.

It's ironic, isn't it?

Nobodies don't have hearts. Therefore, they shouldn't be able to break.

Cock the gun.

There's no going back. It would be so easy if I didn't care.

One, two, three.

Bam.