For some of you, life could be absolute shit right now. Nothing goes your way- the opposite, actually.
Your psyche has nosedived, and you're almost wholly certain that the people who cared about you once- well, you think you might as well be the dirt beneath their shoes.
You can't see the beauty in life anymore.
Above all that, someone is trying to kill you.
It didn't become evident right away, but you noticed after a while- you're not completely thickheaded are you? Being followed everywhere by that sick, heavy feeling indicates a lot going wrong.
Y'know, that whole "probably not alone" thing. Which of course you aren't.
You question their motives- why do they want you dead? Sure, things may not be going great for you now, but you've got potential...
right? Surely there must be *some* reason for you to exist; you just haven't figured out what it is yet. You fail to fathom why they'd go out of their way to make attempts on your life.
*Your* life, of all people's. This brings about another question: do you deserve death?
And somehow, you're not entirely sure anymore.
They're armed to the teeth, and then there's you. You have a small knife you carry from time to time, but only when you need it.
It's a flimsy little thing, but protection is protection, right? But you're not certain of that, or much of anything else.
Your knife is nothing next to the impressive and damaging weaponry your assailant has used on you. For the first time in your life, you question your supposedly trustworthy knife.
Now you're not entirely sure what to do now. After all, you see that person everyday.
And this can make looking in the mirror *such* a bitch.