I remember the feeling of the blade slowly being dragged, pulling at the skin ripping it and leaving that amazing sensation. Tingles shout up your arm and legs as blood slowly bubbles and seeps out.
I miss it.
Being happy and smiling. Laughing.
Please bring it back.
Let me be happy.
Fix me.
Save me.
Let me die.
I want to bring out the razor again.
YOU ARE READING
A Cutters Diary (editing)
Ficção AdolescenteMy mind, my hell, my life. What I think at my darkest times and my happiest.
