Honestly, would you read this?

Okay, sooo I just started this book and I want to know what you guys think. Would it be something you would be interested in reading?

Heres the first chapter:

I rushed into my room. I’m done, I thought to myself, i’m done. Tears streaming down my face, I grabbed the blade I had always kept under my mattress. With two swift movements, both my wrists were split open. I sighed. I sighed in pain and partly in relief that soon I would finally be out of this world. I’ll finally be away from all these horrible feelings. Nothing can hurt me after this. Nothing.

Blood was pouring out like water. My clothes, my bed, and my carpet were getting stained blood red, literally. I was getting weaker and I could see my skin getting paler. It wouldn’t be long now.
But why did things have to end this way? Why? Why couldn’t I be happy with myself and my life? That’s all I can think to myself as I hear the death clock in my mind ticking. Why, why, why, why? Why did it have to be me?

Almost every night I sat in my bed crying, a normal thing for me. I was all scarred up and my throat always had the most terrible burning sensation in it and my stomach felt like it had just been pumped. I was always either high or just about dying to get a hook up. I was sick of life. I hated it and I hated myself. What hurt most was no one understood what it was like to be me. They never got how it felt to wake up in the mornings and wish you didn’t, to look in the mirror and hate what you see, to be afraid of everything; afraid to live, afraid to die, afraid to love, be loved, afraid to be trusted, and afraid to let anyone in.

Living in the bronx; I had a great social life, a great school, and an okay home life. So, why, you ask, was I still unhappy? I can’t even answer that because I don’t know. I do know that I couldn’t seem to get away from my past. It haunted me like a bad, bad nightmare. I’m only 15; things shouldn’t have had to be like this.
My mother and I were always at each other’s throats. I still feel bad but how can you not argue when your mother is like a clone of the person who ruined your life.
I adjusted myself to a more comfortable position. I felt like I was drifting off, like I was giving in to the light at the end of the tunnel. It seemed that everything that got me to this point was running through my mind.
Three years ago, I was fine. I didn’t have a life, but everything was right with the world.
Three years ago, three years ago, three years ago…

—then from that point, the book goes back three years ago to show how the character got to this point. What do you think?