xxkcxx
Bluelighter
Sometimes, I really feel like I need to die.
It's not that I want to die; I don't. Not really.
It's that I don't think that anyone will fully comprehend how seriously fucked up I am without some major, undeniable truth.
I thought the bulimia would be good enough. I thought the cutting would be good enough. I thought the heroin would be good enough. But there was a problem with all of those.
I couldn't tell anyone about them.
I was too worried I would hurt the people who I love. The people who tell me they love me, and the people who I hope love me.
I hate causing hurt to anyone; anyone except myself.
Hurting myself is very easy. It's almost pleasurable.
I take the rage I feel for everything and everyone and I take it out on my body. And it feels so good.
I love the feeling of my stomach emptying itself into the toilet. My body so shaky I need to steady myself before I stand up.
I love the feeling of the razor's edge on my skin. Watching the bright red blood slowly bubble up from beneath the confines of the pale white.
I love the feeling of the powder going up my nose or the metal dipping into my veins. I love that immediate sigh of relief leaves my body and how my head automatically falls back as I sink into temporary oblivion.
It is easier this way because I don't want to hurt the people in my life. They have enough to deal with, they don't need me to add to their problems.
So I will carry their load, and my load too.
I can be strong enough for all of us.
It's not that I want to die; I don't. Not really.
It's that I don't think that anyone will fully comprehend how seriously fucked up I am without some major, undeniable truth.
I thought the bulimia would be good enough. I thought the cutting would be good enough. I thought the heroin would be good enough. But there was a problem with all of those.
I couldn't tell anyone about them.
I was too worried I would hurt the people who I love. The people who tell me they love me, and the people who I hope love me.
I hate causing hurt to anyone; anyone except myself.
Hurting myself is very easy. It's almost pleasurable.
I take the rage I feel for everything and everyone and I take it out on my body. And it feels so good.
I love the feeling of my stomach emptying itself into the toilet. My body so shaky I need to steady myself before I stand up.
I love the feeling of the razor's edge on my skin. Watching the bright red blood slowly bubble up from beneath the confines of the pale white.
I love the feeling of the powder going up my nose or the metal dipping into my veins. I love that immediate sigh of relief leaves my body and how my head automatically falls back as I sink into temporary oblivion.
It is easier this way because I don't want to hurt the people in my life. They have enough to deal with, they don't need me to add to their problems.
So I will carry their load, and my load too.
I can be strong enough for all of us.
, and want to cut.