Today I was washing dishes and the knife slipped out of my hand and fell on my foot, subsequently stabbing my toe.
Or at least that is what I told my Mom.
The truth is I sat in the corner of my room and cried, contemplating life.
When I was done I went and got the sharpest knife from the kitchen and held it to my throat while looking at myself in the mirror.
I started to cry and let go immediately and that is really how the knife fell on my foot and blood ended up all over the bathroom floor.
I knew that it looked suspicious so I tracked my blood on the kitchen floor.
I am such a dumbass; I couldn't even hurt myself right.
