I’ve attempted to write my suicide note. Or notes I should say. I’m not even done with the one to my love. It’s like 4 pages long already and not even close to being finished. Do I know if I’m going to commit suicide? No. I just want everything ready for when and if it does happen. I see it being a 30 to 70%. 30% being I won’t attempted it. The other 70% is I will. Probably not now but latter.
Tomorrow and Thanksgiving and I’m not sure what to be thankful for. My family resents me. My friends will eventually turn their backs on me. What’s left? Shelter? Food? I don’t even know anymore.
My boyfriend hasn’t talked to me since Thursday. He either doesn’t give a shit about me or is just tired of dealing with my problems….now that I think of it, it’s probably both. Damn I just can’t wait until he talks to me again. I’m so tired oh always being alone. The only good thing coming out of all of this shit is that I’m attempting to stop cutting. I’ve actually lost count in how many days I’ve went. I do know that this time around was worse that last time. I’ve looked at my arm and the heeling wounds are defiantly going to make bad scars.
I’m trying to stop mostly because people are starting to notice. People that didn’t already know. Like one of my best friends. I don’t want him to know. I never want him to find out. Or anything about my past. I’ve already lost so many people because of the stupid fucked up shit I do and I can’t loose someone else…at least not now.