I'm sitting in my room looking at my closet door and the black darkness coming through. It's crying out my name. I want to cut so badly the temptation is getting stronger. But I know I can't I'm a week clean. So I'm just sitting here on the edge of a tear thinking about Collin and death and how good cutting sounds but what's the point I do it just to know I'm alive although I want to be dead.
It sucks being me but hell its all I get right?
YOU ARE READING
The Book Full Of Truth/Lies
PoesíaThis is going to be pretty depressing. All the chapters in this story are things I wrote in my journal while I was recovering. These are original stories and poems . I've never told anyone these things so enjoy, relate, and know you are never as alo...
