"I am a mess of unfinished thoughts.

Unable to tell you how vile you make me feel.

But I will stay here and finish my cigarette and hope for the best."

Luhan sat in his dank apartment with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head between them. Suddenly, he grabbed the first thing closest to him, a bottle, and hurled it across the room with a shout. Glass scattered across the small room; bouncing off the walls. His fingers dug into his hair, pulling on the strands as his body rose and fell from heavy, ragged breaths. Closing his eyes, he attempted to calm down but to no use as he slammed his hand down onto the ground so that the shards pierced his fragile skin. He cursed and held his hand up. Blood fell slowly down his arm; it was hypnotising him, watching his own life fall away like the blood down his arm. A wave of sickness and aching overcame his mind, but now it had become something to expect; something that was normal; something he waited for; something he needed. And that was the worst thing, finding comfort in the continuous pain and misery. The suffering that Luhan’s mind endured made him feel physically ill; but he had grown to like it, maybe because it distracted him from the vile memories and thoughts, or maybe because it meant that the end was near and closing in every second.

Luhan was trapped in his own mind, and without the will to escape he kept sinking and suffocating. The pain was too real. But maybe his body was telling him to escape because the way he scratched and scraped at his neck and arms showed the need to leave. But leave from what; leave his body behind or leave his mind. How could he escape his mind? Digging a deeper hole to hide in for a moment, breathing in the toxins of a cigarette, was...he breathes…just…and again, more shallow… perfect. And he falls; he has reached the greatest depth; he has reached the end.

It's very loosely based on the poem/quote at the start. Tell me what you think.