This time when I cut, I regressed to cutting my left shoulder, as I was wont to do years ago. I slit superficial lines between the iron cross, making the black ink of the tattoo glisten prettily. I wish I had taken that razor and slit my goddamn throat. But I am a gutless *****, too afraid of what could happen to me if I do it. So there are 14 lines, some longer than others, some deeper than others. All easily hidden by my shirt sleeve.
HOW FUCKING DARE YOU BLAME ME FOR WHAT HAPPENED??!! The fall wasn’t my fault. “You’ve got to hold on […]