I don't want to die

I've realised I don't want to die. I want it to die. That thing inside of me that makes it hard to live. It tells me how horrible I am. How undeserving I am. How much of a whining ungrateful stereotypical little teenage bitch I'm being. When I catch a glance of myself in the mirror it puts on it''s evil smile, thoughts of how to end my life rush through me. I see a bloody gash in my trout and the blood socked knife drips the evidence on the floor. The wicked smile stretched across my face it's won. I often thought this might be the better option but I could never do it. I realise now I don't want to die. I want it to die.