another

I don’t really know what to say. I’ve gotten so used to saying nothing to people because they don’t want to hear about what’s on my mind. And because I’m afraid of the consequences. The psych ward is no fun. Jail is no fun. I’m never going back to either. I used to cut. Pro tip: if anyone asks about the marks, just lie, even if it’s not believable. They won’t challenge you on it because they don’t want to deal with it. Fortunately the scars have faded with time and I have hairy arms so nobody ever notices unless I show them. My watch covers the one on my wrist. Which was handy 10 years ago when I cinched it down tight enough to stop the bleeding so I could take my then-girlfriend to the ER when she cut both of hers. Her scars are much worse. But she’s married now and having a baby soon. I don’t really see the draw of cutting anymore, I don’t think it would make me feel better. See, im toxic. I am the lesson. I hurt everyone. I’m the the guy that you meet to learn what you don’t need in your life. The kind of people you should distance yourself from. The one that everyone that cares about you will tell you you deserve better than. I’m attractive, intelligent, an asshole. Other than my moodiness when I don’t care to hide it, I’m the one nobody expects to kill themselves. But being me is impossible. Hurting a handful of people only one more time has to be better than hurting them repeatedly and hurting more people as I always do. The best thing I can do for them is to keep them away from me. And there is only one way for my selfishness to allow that to happen. I don’t want them away from me. But it’s the way i will hurt them the least.