Stop staring at mi scares...I kno you think you kno what im going throu...But you dont the cuts dont hurt or sting they help...They save me...SAVE ME FROM MISELF!

Theres blood trickling down my arm...yet i don't feel a thing.

I wish I had a person to talk to, to calm me down and tell me that it's going to be okay, instead of sprinting to the medicine cupboard, and taking a Xanax.

I just need a reason. One.

I wish I could say the right words but I've none to complete. I'm not worthy of breath yet I fear to let it go. I should apologize but my pride's the only thing I've left. I should cry but the privliage is lost. Im naught but a shadow seen in a mask.

I'm starting to think that depression and cutting is like a virus that never truly gets cured. It can be treated, but it never leaves you...

I've made an imaginary character just to compete against my weakness!

And when the sun goes down,
i become broken.
In this faded twilight,
i am no one.

But in away i would not turn my back on him because things would never be the same wiv out him
i love him so bad that every where we went i went go back other it and hoping he would be there waiting for me

Pain And Lie's
Cut's And Bruise's
So This Is What I've Become
Dead Inside.