i don't really feel like fighting.

i want to self harm again.

my hands shake as the blade blade blade hovers over my skin and i don't know if i know any other way to kill kill kill my mind and my mind is feeling pretty dangerous right now. and the words keep sort of echoing echoing echoing through my head, and it's all too much to even think about, let alone talk about. and i hate the way everyone does their makeup makeup makeup just for the sake of appearances. because it's always about appearances. which kinda makes me want to cut cut cut myself to pieces but please don't tell anyone about it. because i feel like a crime crime crime, and i'm probably wrong but just in case i'm right i don't want anyone to notice. and i don't want to be a mess mess mess, but i feel like i am, at least a little bit, so someone please remold my heart. i want to tell the voice in my head and the worry in your eyes that i'm in control control control. but my family is suffocating me and all the noises. all the noises. all the noises. god, they fucking scare me. and i'm sitting alone in my bed, trying to understand the pile of feelings surrounding me. but it's difficult. so mostly, i fall apart, trying to crush them into a thousand tiny tiny tiny glass shards. shards. shards. and then i'll drown in an ocean of cortisol and adrenaline and dopamine, toxins toxins toxins pumping through my veins veins veins because i take my swimming lessons in my mind's poison poison poison every single fucking day and my hands shake. and "just pull yourself together. just stitch your broken broken broken thoughts together because everyone around you tells you to stitch your broken broken broken thoughts together and why does it always have to be hard for you like this? why do you always have to be like a sandcastle, seconds away from when it crumbles crumbles crumbles?" but i'm not sure how this can be controlled. because i'm not in control control control. because i'm not doing this because i like tearing myself apart apart apart, i'm doing it because maybe deep down broken is all i've ever known how to feel. i'm not doing this because i like having to explain the scabs and scars littering my wrists. sobbing in my bed bed bed at 1 am, wondering if anyone can hear my tears dripping onto silver silver silver, mixing with red red red. i can feel my lungs slowly collapsing collapsing collapsing. i'm not doing this because i want to. but please don't blame blame blame anyone else. it's not their fault. it's my fault, it has to be... my fault. i don't remember what it's like to trust myself around blades. i'm sorry.