The Beginning

Ya know, this killin' ya self shit aint NO joke. I think a person deals with more personal conflicts when trying to do themselves in, than they do when life is good and they believe everything is okay.

Nevertheless, I'm either gone down this whole fuckin' bottle of Zoloft or I'm gonna take the painful way out and slit my fuckin' wrists. I mean, it ain't like I got shit to live for no way. After constantly getting shitted on by a nigga, 4 miscarriages, 6 venereal diseases, and countless of ass whoopings, I ain't got shit to lose.

No job, no personal money, a few friends and barely any family, I mean things can go my way. I'm sick of the crying, the internal and external pain. I'm tired of feeling like I'm alone in this world. Only one person matters right now, but my dumb ass managed to fuck that up.

The one person who truly loves me and I screw it up by not being able to trust, to love. At this point, I think I'm a complete waste of body mass and the world would be so much better without me...

"BANG! BANG!! BANG!! DESIRAE!!!!! OPEN THIS DOOR MAN! I'M NOT GONE LET YOU DO THIS!! BANG! BANG!! BANG!!!" came the loud knocks and screams from Dre.

Damn. What the fuck was he doing here? The last time we saw each other, he specifically said he don't want shit to do with me. And now he's here? Ugh.

One pill...2 pills...3 pills.... 4..... The bangs and screams continue, and I continue to swallow the pills. Suddenly my heads feel woozy and I curl up into a ball on the cold bathroom floor, seeing my horrible life flash before my eyes.... The bangs continue, but in a while, it'll be too late.

"DESIRAE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I close my eyes, breathe, and then its all over.