So, I just carved the word “die” with a razor into my arm. My boyfriend is closer to breaking up with me than he has ever been. He doesn’t even know about the fresh wound.
Author
Grandiose
I just got high. To forget. And my boyfriend and I just had sex. I feel millions of emotions. My black cat is next to me,
undoubtedly concerned.
My boyfriend is drinking a beer watching TV.
I’m on the bed. Tears stain my cheeks. He pulled my hair really hard.
I want a cigarette. And chocolate. And death.
I’m psychotic. Ready to die. I have 8 million reasons to walk away. I just need one good one to stay. I’m praying. Trying to be normal. But I’m fucking it all up! I’m pretty sure I have dissociative identity disorder. Liv. And Bella. And me. But I thought they were all me. But they’re not. This has devastated me. Please help. I’m so fucking out of it. No one knows. I HATE MYSELF! I’m leaving.