Live or leave?

My room was dark as burnt ash.
I sat on the cold floor, my back leaned against a strong wall, just like the heart I pretended was strong.
My knees were pulled up to my chest, my arms wrapped around them.
My heart trembled so hard that the thin layer of hope around it cracked once again.
Nothing felt different. Sitting in the dark, sobbing until no tears were left, had become my normal routine.
But today, a knife lay beside me, sharp as the pain I had been carrying.
I reached out with my shaking hand and held it.
Suddenly, I felt that I was too young to die, too good to cry, and too scared to smile too.
Still, I didn't know what to do.
Live or leave?