So This Is How It Ends.

So, this is how it ends.
This is where my hand writes the last page of my novel. It was shorter than I expected.
It's quiet in my room. My hands are trembling. And the ceiling is winning this staring contest. 
I can do nothing to fight against these thoughts. There's no where to run to. 
There's no where to hide. And there's no one to call. I am alone. 
But that is what I wanted all along... wasn't it?
There is no one that knows who I am, or how I feel. 
Yet I am crying for someone to just hold me.
For someone to just acknowledge that I exist. 
Please.

There's a creak at my door. I hide. My mom calls to me, but is left with no answer. 
She leaves. I exhale, divulging from the corner of my room. 
Now all is calm. But I can feel the waves crashing against my tender heart. 
I urge myself to remember the sorrow, but it has no effect. 
I lay still, feeling the blood trickle from my gaping chest. 
I am hollow. Yet all I crave is destruction. 
The clock ticks at 1:38 a.m. I tense up. 
The walls are closing in, and I can't breathe. 
Why do I confide these feelings. Why do I continue to exist?
It would be so easy..

The thought sends chills down my back. I smile. 
To think all this pain to be gone in an instant makes me relax.
And makes me want to vomit. I check my phones empty messages. 
Knowing there is nothing there, but I want to believe. My stomach contracts.
My brain is on fire, and I can't hug my knees any tighter. 
The tears build up again. I break. 

The air is now chilly, and I'm met again with that still silence again. 
Nothing is thought. But my insides are already on fire. 
I am now angry. I'm angry at life. I'm angry at God.
Why is this happening to me? Why don't they just understand? 
My heart is under siege as my mind begins to beat. 
I think of my dad. How he yelled at me. And my mom, how she justifies why I am wrong.
I punch the floor. And once again. The pain soothing to my heated thoughts. 
I breathe. The steam boiling from my eyes. 
I am still alone. 
I am still alone. 

I make it into my bed. The pillows feel good against my back. 
The moon casting its helping hand around my neck as I close my eyes. 
They didn't mean to hurt me. They only want what's best. 
If only they would understand. I wipe my eyes, and think of tomorrow. 
Everything is going to be okay. 
It's late, and you're alone. 
You're in pain, and there's no end to the silence, banging against your skull. 
Everything at this moment is weighing down on your shoulders more than it should be. 
Just breathe. Relax.
Everything is going to be okay. 

I feel my eyes grow weary, and the covers feel warm against my fragile skin.
The clock blinks to 2 a.m.
I think of my apology, and how I can make them feel okay.
Everything is going to be okay. 
I smile. I sleep.