Me, in the bath tub. Fully clothed, bleeding out. Seventeen days from now. My birthday. My death day. I attempt every year on this day. My D-Day. Twenty one, on the twenty eighth.
I used to love you. But you fucking broke me. I can’t have one normal conversation with another human, I can’t smile. Can’t laugh! Because you broke me. You ****. I hope you rot and are miserable for eternities. I used to only be suicidal, now that’s changed into homicidal. I used to be sad, so sad. That’s gone now. I don’t feel anything, except ANGER now. Pure hatred. I think if it was my choice to let you live or die, i’d finally smile, watching you burn. I fall asleep thinking about, I dream about it. Dream of your death. I fantasize over it. Just to watch you suffer would be the best thing life could offer me. I want you to hurt. Like I do. But worse. You tore me into a thousand different pieces, and burnt what was left, little by little, again and again. How fucking dare you tell me you love again, how dare you torment me saying you still love me. What is wrong inside that tiny little head of yours? I promise to God if you call me, if you say one word to me on my birthday. I’ll go crazy. You’ve wasted and defiled three years of my life, no need to fuck up however many I have left. It’s like you almost enjoy making me suffer and you make me sick, you’re a pig. A despicable person. You say the reasons you hurt me so I God’s plan? Really? As if you’re some fucking saint. You act like you’re some damn saint. How many times have you sucked me off? How many times have you just randomly started going off on me, whether it be in the car, the movie theater, at your parents house. You’re no damn saint, you’re a fucked up piece of shit. You think you’re doing the right things, You’re not doing anything right, you never have, and never will. If there is a hell I can’t wait to see you there, *****. I want you dead. I’d give my life for that. After all, what you’ve done to me there isn’t much of it left. I’m a hollow, soulless being stuck in a shell. People can’t stand the sight of me. I have no humanity left me. I can’t be a human ever again. Recent deaths in the family occurred, what did I do, what did I say? I said it’s bound to happen, and I insulted many people for no reason. I have no emotion, I have no empathy. I have nothing left, but the anger and madness, which you left me alone with. When I cut myself, I don’t cry, don’t scream, i don’t think about it twice, don’t even notice the pain. I pray, hope, beg. That it kills me. But I can never get drunk enough to go deeper, and when sober I always fuck it up anyways. Just look at the fucking way I talk now. I. I’m done. Fuck yourself. See you in hell, *****.
Bubbling Boiling , deep inside.
Waiting praying, to see the light.
Whispered nightmares, a tale within.
One bloodied mess, one last sin.
There’s only one way, to kill that cretin.
Death of it’s master, one way to be beaten.
Let it out, or make them pay.
A sacrifice surely, one i’ll not make.
For we like this realm, Him and I.
So I let him control, my rotted insides.
There’s only one note, I must recall.
I’m that daemon, Which hate’s it all.
He’s my king, as I for Him.
“One bloodied mess, our very last sin”
I have five more days. If I don’t complete the blood oath by then, i’ll lose everything. My wrists are going to get some new tattoos I hope.
I’ll see her then, in five days time. The destroyer of my world, death itself. If I can keep my cool, then perhaps we’ll all walk out alive.
If I don’t at least slice myself up before , i’ll be sure to make a mistake again. Perhaps i’ll even cry. No, I need this.
I need her, to see. What I have become. The unending , undying pain she’s caused me.
We want this, Him and I.
Just kidding. I have a method, although alone, I loved you.
I really, really wish this would end. I am pretty tired. You, know. That’s a good way to describe it. I am tired.
Holding on, is hard. I just can’t end up failing again. Hearing my mom scream, and cry. That and the hallucinations I experience were basically hell to me.
My mom is a strong woman, she’s been through her fair share as we all have. She doesn’t cry . Seeing her finally cry for the first time in years, because of me, because of my lifeless body .
I can’t experience that again, and , even if I do not fail. I can bear the pain she’ll feel that I was actually dead. If there is an after life, that’s terrifying to me. Because I can’t escape my mind, the reason I want to die to begin with. It’d be a failure no matter what. I would be suffering even more so.
Please just change this life. It was going so good. You finally saved me. Then left… It
Shouldn’t have been this way. 20 years and I never accomplished anything until I met you. Why would you leave, and consider it fates work?
It doesn’t make sense… This can’t be real. I can’t sleep. I am eating so much. not treating anything right. im dying. again.
please. come back and save me .
Don’t leave me here in the darkness because I wont survive again.
Please, pardon my language if it’s too much for you.
People see babies, and they often think. “awe, it’s adorable” (Or something of the sort.)
I see a baby, I think. “Wow, some guy put his penis, where pee comes out of, into a girls vagina, where pee comes out of, during sex, and he ejaculated inside of her, and a baby began forming, then after months of growing into a living being that baby then stretched open that females vagina 20 times bigger than it should ever be and came out covered in blood and amniotic fluids. That’s fucking disgusting.”
We are blessed to be able to daydream.
There’s something inside of me, I’m considered a dead man. I’m alive now, but i’ll try, again and again, and again. Because I can not stop. I’ve been completely consumed by this. I hate, everything. I’ve learned to hate myself, and now I can’t take that back. I ruined my life, numerous times, and I’ll continue to do so. It’s as if I no longer control my body. I’ll try again. Till I am no more. Considering that, I’m already dead. It hasn’t happened yet, and it’ll happen again.
Right in front of my mom. So suicidal. ‘It kills me”.
What a ghast.
She knew what I was doing..
Please, by god help me.
I just ABOUT briokw my FACE.
Sorryb f9rfor misss spelling drunk as ever.
omg/////// please he.lp me. I fractured my jawk. I cant quit httin g mysekf.
This time it was a boxer.
He was enormous , an unfair death, like always.
I just started to love on him, became attached.
But all good things die.
This is life.
Then you left, showed me truth.
And told me to get over it.
With that knowledge, I can become such a spiteful person.
Or become a mindless drone living day to day with no real care.
Some just realize it sooner than others.
Two things strong enough to prevent.
It’s a shame i’m upside down in a backwards world.
Swirling vortex, suck it all in all.
We’ll meet somewhere in the event horizon.
“Just one more day Donnie, please” .
A couple days ago. I haven’t cut in a couple months. I’ve going to most likely do it again. I want. Things I can’t have, things I can’t live without. I chose a long sleeve shirt for my job for a reason, I have to just hide it. I think about locking the store, drinking the night away, and just cutting myself till I bleed out in the store. I hope people try and rob me with a gun, so I can ‘do something stupid’ and get myself shot. I’m a coward, I can’t do it myself. I wish I dead. Or just. No I wish I were gone. I wish I can say otherwise.
I’m sorry I met you.
I keep waking up. I woke up in a pool of blood that one night, a month ago. I woke up. 80 ounces of the hardest alcohol I can afford, twenty cuts later, and I still wake up. I’ve overdosed so many times, on pills and booze it’s like my tolerance is way too high now. I wake up every time. Even as a kid, I’d try at least once a week. I’d wake up every time. A whole bottle gone, and I would still just wake up.
I’m scared, because every time I try to finally die, it just does not happen. I’m scared because when I get these last couple paychecks from my two jobs, I’m going to buy a shotgun. I’m scared, I’ll wake up in the hospital again, and be horribly disfigured, ashamed, and worst of all, alive. I know a man who tried it, he lived. Though it’s improbable, he lived. I’m scared I’ll somehow make it through again.
I beg to whatever deity might exist, Please do not let me wake up again.
Let this end.
it’s one the walls on the laptop. So fucking careless. she bropke up with m~!e. I qouldnt believe it museself. She told ME , q. wll have a future. dvrtything wikk be ok. she told me. well haver kids one day. blahblahb.ah. SHE TOLD ME. everything qill be ok. she told me. all these fucked up LIEA. now imbleeding . dying. I wont make it tonit.eÂ I hope. maybe shel;o see. I fucking hate her. she fucked ,e again. what thte fuc,. oh the fuc,. so much fucking blood. cutting again in a bot five. qill not stop till im dead. fuk everyone ./ I fucking hjate evertyone. im so drunk ni hope I dide. see this.? I lfet this pag4e, facebook and yutbuce open for you. so you can see my last thoughts. Fuck ~. suicide. Fuck fuclk guc, guck fuck. So much fucing blood. So muh fukicngt bloof. I am sorry im not good enough! wgat the fuc,. Cher, I hope you find it. (youtubeit.)
Strangers! . My arm is tattered, torn to shreds.
Failed for one last attempt, so I punished me.
I stopped at seventy four, apparently .
I counted after.
Seventy four wounds, on my arm.
Seventy four little trickles rolling down my arm.
And i’m still fucking here. The people I live with, the ones I used to call family. Are nothing more than careless strangers. This isn’t the first time I’ve worn nothing but jackets and long sleeve’s for days straight, they know, but they don’t care. I’m their disposable MULE. Nothing more than a slave. These people, who I used to hug, and tell them I love them more than anything, are nothing more than strangers. People I don’t even know, faces I can’t recognize.
Perhaps I am a ghost. Like i’m in a coma. My life is as torn as my body. Seventy four. Nothing is real anymore.