“cut my arm as many times as you would cut yours”
words from my sister, i told her that i would never hurt her the way i hurt myself.
I held her as tight as i could as she cried in my wounded arms. She cleaned the blood and bandaged me up and said never to do it again, and continued crying. Every time i think to cut i remember that, but it still doesn’t stop me. I am so messed up, i don’t hate it anymore. I can tolerate it, i can live with it now. Is that weird? Many think so, even my shrink thinks so. Although she won’t say it i know she thinks i am fucked up as i think i am. I don’t need help anymore, i never needed help in the first place, i don’t need these pills anymore, all i need is a blade and a rope. I wish i can start over and make a new life for me. One day at a time i guess.