wow...
I'm so tired. I'm so fucking tired of all the shit that I've went through and what I'm going through right now. I hate everyone, myself included. I hate all the things that people put me through and I hate all the stupid shit I put myself through. I don't want to be what I've become- or what I was- or what people want me to be. I am fucked over either way I choose.
I'll never do anything right in their eyes. I'll never be anything in their eyes. I had and have always ignored all the comments I recieved and went on my way plotting my revenge- never wondering how I look in other peoples lies- I mean eyes. I'll always be that little sterotype. I'll be that gothic- black fingernail polish wearing heroin injectiong cutter alocholic. I just don't give a fuck anymore-
As more and more people find or figure out that I am a cutter I've been trying to remember how and why I started cutting- I remember it oh-so-fondly- I was drunk off my ass and I went into the bathroom. Not paying attention I cut my arm with a barbers blade that slipped out from the cabinet. It only made a knick but it was so cold against my hot skin- I blacked out in the bathroom and woke up in the basement with my arms covered in cuts. not only that but I woke up with 5 bites and I remember the blood that Chris has licked from my cut skin. We're blood bonded now- a little drunk trip into hell- and I can still feel him in my fucking veins.
He's slowly killing me. I can feel his eyes on me as I pass through the halls at school. Just like I remember his lips on my neck- he's driving me insane and he doesn't even know it. He's the only person that truly understood me and he kills me everytime I see him with her- I wish that he'd just die so I wouldn't have his cold eyes on me anymore.
Cutting is like a drug for me now. Just like all the vodka and vallums... The first time you do it- you keep doing more so you get the same result. School and home life and my so called social life has made me numb. I walk through hallways surrounded by people yet feeling alone, staring into oblivion and sleeping during classes. Then I get to come home and listen to all my relatives tell me that they want to see me wearing pink and no more black and yellow dreadlocks or blue hair. Fuck that. Cutting is the only thing I can rely on anymore- I needed it so bad that I tore razorblades from razors. Just to feel it against my skin liberates me. It's my perfect drug.
Lying in a bathtub of diluted bloody bathwater I wasn't me. I was outside of me and watching me. I watched myself lie in the water- vunerable to the world with a razor squeezed in my hand, and watched the blood stream from the cuts on my arms and drip from my fingertips onto the floor. The puddle got bigger as I watched myself just be there- just there. So pale and hurting so much. I don't know what I am suppose to feel anymore. I'm not sure what I want to feel anymore. I'm not sure I want to feel anything, I don't know what is wrong with me and I don't know what's happening to me... I just don't know what to do anymore....
Hmmm... I told Erica about my cutting- she isn't freaked at all... I think we have more in common than what I origionally thought-- I just went ahead and posted what was going in my head and i figured i could because people have read worse.
I'll never do anything right in their eyes. I'll never be anything in their eyes. I had and have always ignored all the comments I recieved and went on my way plotting my revenge- never wondering how I look in other peoples lies- I mean eyes. I'll always be that little sterotype. I'll be that gothic- black fingernail polish wearing heroin injectiong cutter alocholic. I just don't give a fuck anymore-
As more and more people find or figure out that I am a cutter I've been trying to remember how and why I started cutting- I remember it oh-so-fondly- I was drunk off my ass and I went into the bathroom. Not paying attention I cut my arm with a barbers blade that slipped out from the cabinet. It only made a knick but it was so cold against my hot skin- I blacked out in the bathroom and woke up in the basement with my arms covered in cuts. not only that but I woke up with 5 bites and I remember the blood that Chris has licked from my cut skin. We're blood bonded now- a little drunk trip into hell- and I can still feel him in my fucking veins.
He's slowly killing me. I can feel his eyes on me as I pass through the halls at school. Just like I remember his lips on my neck- he's driving me insane and he doesn't even know it. He's the only person that truly understood me and he kills me everytime I see him with her- I wish that he'd just die so I wouldn't have his cold eyes on me anymore.
Cutting is like a drug for me now. Just like all the vodka and vallums... The first time you do it- you keep doing more so you get the same result. School and home life and my so called social life has made me numb. I walk through hallways surrounded by people yet feeling alone, staring into oblivion and sleeping during classes. Then I get to come home and listen to all my relatives tell me that they want to see me wearing pink and no more black and yellow dreadlocks or blue hair. Fuck that. Cutting is the only thing I can rely on anymore- I needed it so bad that I tore razorblades from razors. Just to feel it against my skin liberates me. It's my perfect drug.
Lying in a bathtub of diluted bloody bathwater I wasn't me. I was outside of me and watching me. I watched myself lie in the water- vunerable to the world with a razor squeezed in my hand, and watched the blood stream from the cuts on my arms and drip from my fingertips onto the floor. The puddle got bigger as I watched myself just be there- just there. So pale and hurting so much. I don't know what I am suppose to feel anymore. I'm not sure what I want to feel anymore. I'm not sure I want to feel anything, I don't know what is wrong with me and I don't know what's happening to me... I just don't know what to do anymore....
Hmmm... I told Erica about my cutting- she isn't freaked at all... I think we have more in common than what I origionally thought-- I just went ahead and posted what was going in my head and i figured i could because people have read worse.