Almost looks as if we don’t speak unless I start up a conversation. Brilliant. 

I’m fucking sick of it. All I can think about is suicide. I don’t want anybody to care. I want everyone to stop. I don’t fucking want to live anymore and I’m so sick of putting up with it. 

it’ll all work out, maybe.

I can see the scars without wanting to do it all over again. They’re fading and now that makes me happy, not want to tear myself apart. Honestly, I have two blades hidden in my closet. I don’t want to use them. I can be awake in the middle of the night second guessing every detail of myself wanting nothing more than to just cry and to be convinced I’m going to be okay, knowing they’re there, and still not want to use them. I don’t feel I need to cut anymore, and haven’t for ages really. More importantly, I don’t want to now. Maybe that will change, maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll never even consider picking up a blade again, maybe. Nothing is infinite, nor definite.

Sure, complain about wanting someone to talk to on twitter and how you might talk to someone new while ignoring texts from your fucking girlfriend. 

But what if I deserve it? Maybe I’m a bad person and I really don’t deserve to be happy like I think I do. Maybe I deserve it, maybe I should cut myself. Maybe I shoudn’t try so hard to eat; maybe I don’t deserve that effort either. What if I’m just lying to myself? What if I’m so much more awful than I ever thought. Maybe I am. Maybe I should. Maybe. 

I think I’m over needing to cut myself now. Its just wanting. I will suppress the want and it will all go away. 

i-c-a-n-t-s-t-a-y:

ugh just want to cut cut cut cutcutcutufdfghgfndfkvc

But i promised. I wish i didnt. i hate everything