Doubt

Sometimes I look back and ask myself, “Why didn’t I die that day.” Should I have died? I obviously didn’t get any better. I remember sitting in the girl’s bathroom at school and I started to slice down my arm. Why did I stop? Why couldn’t I kill myself? Because now I can’t, I can’t do it now. I love you, and yet I hate you. Because of you, I can’t die. I can’t do that to you.
I should have, though. You would have been a lot happier, I can only assume. You would have found some other girl who was more your type. Not some emotional cow like me. What made you ever think you could fall in love with me?
Whatever it was, it was wrong.
I should have died that day, five years ago.