“I need you inside of me,” he whined, desperation clinging to his words, “please, God, I need you.”

His hunger was unbearable, but still she forced him to watch while she finished- now visibly wet and dripping onto the counter. His desire grew insatiable with each moment. He wanted to succumb to his carnality, to have just one taste. She would punish him harshly, but even that was better than this agonizing wait. She was getting closer, and he wanted her to go faster- but to rush would ruin the satisfaction of waiting. Then, she was finished. The waffle iron beeped its monotone melody. He placed her onto the table, beside his coffee and a generous bottle of syrup.

“What a great breakfast,” he thought.

Lonliness is a sickness that gnaws at your insides. It sinks into your skin and muscles, cutting to the bone. Dreary darkness consuming you and working at the very fabric of your self. It makes you doubt your worth. Whether your worthy of love, happiness, life. I hoped and prayed to things I didn't believe in as my circle got more and more superficial. There was always a sensation that I was a more private person, but insults would be sent my way. I was a creep, a weirdo, someone who was inherently dangerous due to nothing I had done. Maybe they could feel my unhappiness and wanted to avoid it like the plague. My self-worth was at a low and I wasn't good enough. There was no future for me. Everything I had ever done was worthless and I was never going to be enough for anyone. Not for my friends and family. Not for the people I cared about. I wanted to stop suffering. I wanted to die. It stayed with me throughout all of my thoughts like my own dark passenger. Constantly there and whispering the terrible things.

"Everyone would be better off with me gone."

"I should do it now, while my brother is still young enough to no feel the grief from my death."

"My father deserves to feel how he failed me."

"I'm a coward for not actually killing myself."

I would spend nights staring at the cabinets of pills and the razors in the drawers of the bathroom under the sink. It drove me to have breakdowns as I tried to will myself to cutting. I couldn't do it. I was a coward for not making myself feel the pain that I should be feeling. I should have felt worse, I deserved to suffer more. That was what I deserved back then. That's what I thought at least. It isn't that way as much anymore. I can bare to look in the mirror again, I have depth in my friendships. There is hope in the future, plans, goals and things to reach for. I'm not stuck in a pit with no escape. I'm climbing the stair, even if it isn't a crystal one. I am going to keep going.