A few days ago it was a bad day. I was really depressed and I just felt like dying. I realized that I was suicidal that night actually. I had been talking to my ex all day because he said he couldn't stay away so I just gave up and went with it. He said he was gonna go. He told me not to cut. I didn't think I was, but oh how I did.
That night I cut very deep and multiple times all over my hips. I was bleeding so much. I couldn't get it to stop. It just kept bleeding and bleeding and bleeding. I texted him and told him, but he was asleep. I mean, it was 3:00. So finally I got it to stop bleeding. I had blood all over me. I spent the rest of the night either crying or staring at the ceiling. I was about to just slice my wrists and say Fuck it. I didn't. Somehow I found the strength to keep on living. Sadly, I found the strength to keep on living.
I was so fucking depressed. So fucking sad. So fucking empty. So fucking broken. So fucking lost. I can't even explain to you how sad I was. I was just so so sad. So sad that I was about to end it. I didn't. I was strong. I haven't slept. Barley eaten. All smiles have been fake. All my laughs have been fake. Everything about me that was happy was fake.
I'm not any better.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Dead Diary
Non-FictionThis is a thoughts story. So if you aren't interested then don't read. Also if you are going to read and then complain in the comments, fuck off.
