Ummm...hi. Another little one-shot story. Well, umm...read and review, please. It is Christmas, after all...wow. It's Christmas, and here I am putting up something depressing. I just realized that. Eh...

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He envied her, the girl lying on the ground. He envied the way she moved no more, never to open her eyes and see the cruel world again. He envied the way her body lay gracefully on the cold ground. He envied her for the way she was perfect.

Her envied her for her midnight black hair that framed her face just right. He envied her for her flushed cheeks and the way her nose curved up at the end. He envied her for her beautifully arched eyebrows and her long curved eye lashes. He envied her for her lush lips. And her envied her for her dainty little toes and her curved hourglass-shaped body too.

He also envied the way her blood glistened in the moonlight. He knew his blood would never glisten like that, no matter what he did. And believe me, he'd tried a lot of things.

He'd tried scissors and knives, cigarettes and lighters, toothpicks and needles. He tried burning his skin, cutting his wrists, starving himself, and doing drugs. He tried jumping off a building, getting hit by a car, drowning himself, and even a hanging once or twice.

But no matter what he did, he lived.

He lived with scars and bruises, broken bones, stomach aches and head aches, frequent dizziness, breathing problems, and nerve damages. He lived with all of his failures. Because no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't die.

And he endvied the dead girl, envied how easily she had died. It had been over so quickly. One bullet was all it took. That was the end. And he envied her for that too. That she could come to an end.

But now he thought. And he thought for a long time. And he checked the gun and saw that it had one bullet left. and it was then that he realized, as he put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger...

He didn't envy her anymore.

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I know it was a bit weird, and rather disturbing. Believe me, I know. I wrote it. It scares me. But um anyway, could you review please? Even if it all you say is, "What is wrong with you?" If you just say something, anything, it would make me happy. I accept anonymous reviews. Don't be shy. Besides, it's Christmas. Be nice. So...um...yeah. Bye. And uh...Merry Christmas.