I’m slipping back into depression. For the first time in months I deliberately took a razor to skin and edged it in. The familiar slice and twinge offered a precious moment free of the past that haunts me. It felt so GOOD. So tremendously good. My wrist is aching for a gash right now, but I can’t. My wrists are clean. Under my clothes isn’t so pure. It’s the only thing that offers freedom from pain, and I can only imagine that deeper cuts and a tub of warm water would offer all the more bliss. I can’t. I can’t kill myself, can’t and won’t. […]
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Precious Moment
I feel like that again. Like all I can do is cry. And be depressed. And hate myself. My tears feel like razor blades. My heart aches. Yet again, I’m not who I seem to be. I’m empty. I’m scared… I want to be gone, so no one has to deal with the pathetic excuse for a person that I am. And so I can be done with this. Disgust is the only thing I see in myself. I’m the one who made myself like this. And there is no way to fix me. I depend on pills to keep me alive, to numb my […]