Terrified.

If there was a day in the past year that I was contemplating suicide the most that day would be today.
Nothing has ever looked more appealing.
Especially considered tomorrow I start the first day of senior year.
Tomorrow is expected to be a day that I learn how to grow up and deal with responsibilities.
I am considering hanging myself in my closet.
But for once in my life I'm trying not to be a coward.
I'm trying to pretend I have more of a future than planned suicide attempts.
I'm going to go into school walk into the guidance office and tell my counselor that I can't deal with this full schedule and I need to just take the bear minimum to graduate.
Then I am going to go through the rest of the day with fake smiles and try to not break down.
If I so much as see Tommy I'm done.
I cannot take the pressure of tomorrow and seeing that piece of shit's face.  
I cannot deal with the torment I'm going to suffer his year because I have more than my fair share of scars.
Visible scars.
Scars that exist because of self inflicted wounds I accumulated over eight years.
It's officially the eight year anniversary of my self harm.
The seventh of my disordered eating.
My twelfth year of school, fourth year of high school, and the year before my life changes so drastically that it won't even resemble my life anymore.
And I want nothing more than to stay in bed and hope that I never get older.
Hope that all of these changes don't happen and I die before I can get the chance to fuck everything up even more.