December 1st. I love December. It's my favorite. I love the feeling. I love Christmas and I love New Years. I was going to meet Luke for lunch at the local coffee shop I was fired from. I drove there and parked. I grabbed my purse and got out and walked in. It was really snowy because it's the first day of December and of course I was wearing stiletto boots. I stumbled in, knocking snow off of my boots. I saw Luke and walked over and sat down. I ordered a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Luke and I started talking about everything that's happened over the passed week. "You can't keep doing this" he said, he sounded worried. I knew what he was talking about but I ignored him and looked out of the window. "Do you think this is helpful to anyone? To me? To you? To anyone??" He started raising his voice. "Don't yell at me" I replied. "I'm not going to take this lightly. You are hurting yourself. You drank too much over the passed week and it's actually dangerous." He continued yelling, "stop yelling" I raised my voice "I can do whatever I want and I'm not hurting myself." I was crying at that point. I kept thinking of my days as a cutter. I miss them sometimes but I need to stay strong every day. "Listen, if you wanna keep doing this, fine. But don't expect me to help you. Don't expect me to be okay with this. I care about you. I really do. You need help..." he said. I ran out, sobbing. I'm worthless. I kept thinking in my head. You're a waste. I drove home and ran up to my bathroom. I had an extra blade still from a few years ago. I started cutting my arm. Each cut deeper then the last. It felt so good. I missed this a lot. I missed the feeling of pain. I got way ahead of myself and cut too deep. Way too deep. I blacked out. Luke tried to call me like 10 times and eventually drove over and ran inside. I heard him run up the stairs but I was too weak to even open my eyes. He ran in the bathroom to see me laying in a puddle of my own blood with a blade still in my hand. He picked me up to see my arm. He started crying and rushed me to the hospital. I woke up with an IV in my arm. Luke was sitting by my bed. I looked at him and all he said was "why." I looked at my arm. I got carried away. I cut a lot. It was really deep and there were a lot of cuts. "Do you hate me?" I asked. He started to cry. He put his head down and held my hand. "I could never hate you. I was mad. I'm sorry. I didn't want you to be sad. I wanted you to stop drinking like th..." I cut him off "no" I said. "Is this my fault?" Luke asked with tears streaming out of his eyes. "No. No it wouldn't be your fault. I was just really sad and felt alone. Don't ever blame yourself for this." I was in tears now. I closed my eyes gently. "Don't worry about a thing" he started saying "I'll always be beside you." He finished. Beside you i thought. Beside you.
