Sage of the Forlorn Path's "I dream of angels" AKA my fav story ever - Sex Stories

Sage of the Forlorn Path's "I dream of angels" AKA my fav story ever

... are you crazy?! After everything you’ve been told about drugs and after all the times we’ve warned you about their dangers, you would resort to using heroine?” My dad exclaimed, more upset and desperate than angry at me. “Well it’s not like my life can get any worse!” I yelled before getting up and storming out of the office. In the weeks that passed, my parents tried to limit the amount of pills I took, but it was just as difficult for them as it was for me, because just by looking at me, they could tell how badly I needed them. As expected, my pain increased, as well as the intensity and frequency of my seizures. I stopped sleeping, unable to ever calm myself down enough to relax. As January moved onto February, I finally gave in and quit taking my meds, allowing my body to work them chemicals out of my system and lose its developed immunity. I spent that hellish week at home in bed, howling at the top of my lungs while the seconds ticked by with sadistic slowness. Without anything to even muffle the full stimulation of all my pain receptors, my body was essentially ripping itself apart from the inside out, I couldn’t even tell when I was having a seizure or not, it just all felt the same. Every second, I felt like my flesh was being shredded away by flaming chainsaws while twin lobotomies were performed on my brain with jagged icicles. My parents had to stay home from work to take care of me, as I could not go to the bathroom or feed myself. They could do nothing but sit ...

... by my bed and listen to me scream, always trying to think of a way to help me. They tried to endure it, unable to ask my little brother or older sister to look after me without feeling any more guilt than they already were. For days, my sense of time blurred. I was unable to tell night from day, hot from cold, or dream from reality. When I was awake, I often hallucinated, and the only times I ever slept were when I finally managed to pass out from pain or exhaustion, and even then, they never lasted longer than an hour. Eventually, I was able to resume taking my medication, and it was hard for me not to swallow every pill I could get my hands on. I’ll admit, they certainly took the edge off, but I had already made up my mind. I was done. It was February vacation and a winter storm was howling outside. The blizzard had been going for almost three days and power had quickly been lost. The house was dark, the only light coming from the eerie grey aura passing through the windows. I was alone, for my family and gone to a friend’s house to enjoy their electricity and running water. I had chosen to stay home. I didn’t want to leave the house and I wanted to be left alone. I sat at my desk in my room with a glass of water and a pile of pills next to me; sleeping, pain killing, everything. I was slowly writing a suicide note, trying to use my best penmanship. I finally put down the pen. My hands were almost always trembling, but now they were finally steady. “Goodbye pain.” I said ...