onewholeday
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Summary
With sad eyes, Josh watched the boy he once knew.
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If you only knew how long I spend washing my hands, you would know how embarrassed I am.
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TW: Self-Harm
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Tyler wanted to split his chest open with a blade. He pictured himself holding the razor to his bare chest, just holding it there, slowly pressing down and letting the blood compile and drip down the sides of his body, first a trickle, then a steady flow, warm and thick—a straight line across the center of his chest.
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Tyler can't sleep and he's going slightly insane (I'm projecting)