Dumb Bitches and a Guy

Maybe

TW: Mentions of SH, abuse, and other violent topics. I don't recommend reading this at all.

I told myself I'd stop writing here. I told myself I'd stop worrying everyone, but god... I'm so close. I can fucking feel it. Maybe I'm going to snap, and I'm going to break. Maybe I'm going to sob and scream and tell Mother everything. Maybe I'm going to tell her how the sharp edge of my blade tempts me, but even as I drag it along my skin, not even a scratch is made. Maybe I'm going to tell her how the same blade screams at me to insert it into his chest and dig out his heart. Does he even have one? I doubt it. Maybe I'll tell her about the abuse I went through, and how it's caused me to be hypersexual, and now I so easily fall for everyone. Maybe I'll scream in her face that I'm tired of the little things setting her off because she should be happy I even wake up in the morning. Maybe I'll just cry, and tell her how I scratch my skin till it's going red and purple. Maybe I'll make her worry, and maybe she'll make him leave. Maybe.