I *feel like* I don’t want to be alive
I *feel like* I am worthless
I see no point in pretending and I decide to not speak these truths.
I *feel like* I’m the same person I was three years ago
No growth
No hope
No love
No life
Just confusion, anger, longing and prescription medications.
in Fear,
Despair,
Pain,
Hatred.
I could be on the street, in some random location, and literally shut down and stop moving, stop thinking. GODDAMN, how good it feels to stop thinking.
And, oh, how good it feels to cut. I want to cut. To unfreeze and feel again. Cut, cut, cut again. Please let me cut? Just light scratches on my skin. Enough to leave tiny scars that only I know are there.
They’re so beautiful, aren’t they? The little silver streaks and peaks on my brown skin. But no one ever lets me. HEY, stop that! Stop telling me what to do. Just read my shit and go.
Deep Blue Veins 