Why is the question on my mind?

I slide the cold steel blade across my wrist with every intention of not making the same mistakes again. The feeling is not at all what I had expected; not much of a pain but more of a stinging. The warm liquid seeping down my arm, across my hand, and pooling over my chest; it feels so real, I know I won’t waste any more time on this level of my existence. I try to take the blade into my other hand, struggling to cut my other wrist without success. I put the blade to my mouth and take it with my teeth. The taste is so salty, I feel like I’m going to be sick but I know that this was my life; this is my life to live or not to live and with all the bad decisions I have made so far, I think this is the best. Both for myself and for the rest of humanity. I have not one thing to offer to this world.
Why? Why is the question on my mind every waking second in my life; why did I allow others to mold me into the person I seem to be today? Why does god insist on me being alone in this world? Why can’t I just be happy?
I need to move forward, can’t stop now; I bring my other wrist towards my mouth and place it at the blade. The pain from this failed attempt to slice at the vein is almost unbearable. I didn’t even slice it, but I cut my forearm up pretty good. It is bleeding but not the way I need it to. Best decision, more like another bad decision; I can’t even end this life accurately and yet; I won’t give up. This is a decision that I will follow through with and I can’t give up.
I start to feel horribly cold but the warm liquid feels nice running down to my feet. On my way into the bathroom, I stop at the window trying to listen to some faint whisper of hope, but none is there. The cold hard tile beneath my feet feels enjoyable, but I suppose it is my nearing the end which makes me take notice or maybe, it is the fact that I know the outcome of this occurrence. Before I reach the tub, I hear a noise outside. I wonder what or who could be outside my window with my room six stories up. As I head back over to the window, I glide on the river of blood I left previously and slide into the glass crashing out into the warm July afternoon. Just before I hit the ground, I woke from yet another dream.