The blood just won't spill over. It's as if I lost all life. I cut to feel alive and my body is telling me that I'm dead. Or perhaps the slits I create so beautifully aren't deep enough into my skin. Maybe they won't be able to tell their story quiet yet. All I know is one thing, I've given up. The vertical lines are signs of me giving in. Every inch of me has caved in. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to fight. Not like this. Not at all.
