TW: Self-harm, suicidal intentions.
The scissors, the knifes in the kitchen, broken glass, pencils sharpener blades, all these things surrounding me. Sometimes it's just so god damn tempting to draw one more deep red line in my skin, to feel...to not to feel. I cut, and cut, and cut until my bones are showing but wait... why do I still feel empty? What's going on? Did I get to used to it? No, that can't be. Just a couple more, it will work. And I kept on thinking that way until my breath was shakey and my vision was slowly turning black. I always thought I would never go this far but I did, I did because the feeling was still there inside. That bitter empty feeling. The feeling of feeling nothing. Then there I was, awake in the hospital. No one had showed up to see me. No one had cared. Do you know how much that hurt me? To wake up after nearly almost killing yourself and no one being there to even say the simplest "good morning!" Or "rise and shine!"? Maybe I really am nothing. A piece of garbage. That day made me feel like a crumbled up piece of paper that someone threw to the side. It hurt, it hurt to much...
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