I don’t know what to do. I want to be happy and carefree, but I have too many worries. Things would be a tad better if I had someone to talk to. I feel completely isolated and I hate it. I’m a good person, but something’s not right. I’m left on my own with barely any skills to get by. Why am I even still here? It’s confusing for me.
Listening to what got me into music. Who is it? Flyleaf’s debut way back in 2006. Time sure does fly.
What can I do? Everyone here’s terrified that I may do something. I know I am tonight and the rush of doing it here for the first time is making me a little worried. I also have a feeling that they know I bought blades. Am I that predictable? I am and maybe I enjoy that. If I don’t do it tonight I’ll likely do a repeat of what I did on June 24th. Out in the public, but this time I’ll be prepared. I’ll bring a wash clothe and do what I wanted to do for a long, long time. Everyone can go to hell for all I care. I’m done with pretending who I’m not and I’m happy that the fear of cutting is long gone. The great thing is that no one can stop and that alone makes me proud of the fact that I’m free to do what I please. What’s the worst that can happen? Get kicked out of this dump? I will challenge the staff at this house and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. I know I shouldn’t be gloating at the fact that I love to cut, but this is what I am and there’s no hiding anymore. I also tore open two wounds while at the hospital and poked the muscle with a marker. I was perfectly willing to do permanent damage, but I already did because my left arm is pretty much dead. I guess there’s always my right arm if I want to feel something. I’m a little worried because my right arm looks pretty good since everything is faded now. Maybe I should pick apart the scabs on my left arm and cut into the muscle with a razor blade. I’ve been wanting to do that for a weak now.
One Day At a Time 