Morning Smiles Like the Face Of a Newborn Child
This is my second live journal. I won't use this one as much as the other. I guess this one's just gonna be here to use as a place to bitch about my pathetic attempt at a life. I guess I don't have room to complain, at least I have a roof over my head. I just wish I had someone to listen to me. I've tried talking to my friends, but I feel like I'm a big burden to them. I can't talk to my mom, she's mostly the reason why I do what I do. She's the reason I think about killing myself almost every waking minute. How there's not really anybody that I think would miss me if I left. My friends might be a little bummed for awhile, but they'd quickly get over it and forget me. My mom obviously doesn't want me around, she's kicked me out once, she hits me all the time, and she blames me for everything. She tells me all the time that I'm fat and don't deserve to be here, and that as my grandpa's dying, all I care about is myself. She doesn't know that I need serious help, I don't believe it's normal to slit your arms up and down every time you're feeling insecure, or helpless. She doesn't know that I cry myself to sleep every night. She doesn't realize that I'm drowning, she'll never try to help me. She's not there for me, comforting me like a mother should, hearing me out like a mother should, loving me like a mother should. A person that I barely know had a serious conversation with me. More serious and indepth than any conversation I've ever had with anyone. I find it unbelievable that this kid that I have hardly ever talked to can find it in his heart to really listen to me than any of the people I love the most. That really bummed me out.
I don't cut to try to commit suicide. As much as I think I would be doing everyone a big favor, I don't believe I have the strength to do it. I do it because as I feel the pain throbbing in my arm, the pain in my heart and in my head, is released for a short period of time. It never goes away, I think it'll be there till the day I die. But in those few seconds when the blade is penetrating my skin, and the warm liquid drips down my arm, I feel absolutely at peace. And I want that feeling, I need that feeling.
I don't cut to try to commit suicide. As much as I think I would be doing everyone a big favor, I don't believe I have the strength to do it. I do it because as I feel the pain throbbing in my arm, the pain in my heart and in my head, is released for a short period of time. It never goes away, I think it'll be there till the day I die. But in those few seconds when the blade is penetrating my skin, and the warm liquid drips down my arm, I feel absolutely at peace. And I want that feeling, I need that feeling.