You said you knew how it felt…

You told me you were a cutter too. You told me you’ve felt the darkness. You told me a lot of things.
But you lied. I saw your body yesterday. There were no gags in your flesh, no signs that you’ve been there and back. And I stood before you and exposed myself, every gaping wound that streaked my arms and legs. I bet you aren’t really depressed. You’re the definition of attention whore.
I thought I found someone who knew who I was. But now you’re an entirely different person. And now you’re dead to me.
Just like I am.
But jokes on you. You’ve never felt the delicious sting of real life pain that shoots through your blood after edging in a razor. You’ve never released yourself from the stress of being alive.
Which is what I’m going to go do now.