And Counting
Content Warning: suicide, and a tiny bit of blood I have been living on borrowed time for twenty-nine years. It was today, twenty-nine years ago, that I cut deep across my wrists with a razor blade, hoping that I would drift pleasantly off to sleep and not wake up. So, obviously, that didn't work out. But it might have, and so I have a blessing to count today. I was mocked for my attempt. I know this, because my suddenly-ex-boyfriend told me so. Word had gone around at school that I hadn't really meant it, because I cut crossways, and not lengthwise. Well, what did I know? I was eighteen, and that's always how they did it on television. Believe me when I say that I was sincere. Although I…