Dear E,
I see what you meant now. Nobody knows, no body cares. Maybe tonight I will do it, but maybe I won't. I feel like cutting again, kid. I wish you would call me right now, I wish you would talk me out of it. I can't cut again, dude! People will notice the sweatshirts and long sleeves again, and the teachers will see and call my mom and stuff. It won't be good. I want to feel loved, but you don't love me.
Maybe I'll hit myself until it bruises, or run purposely into a wall, maybe I'll burn myself, or pull out my hair, maybe i'll suffocate myself until I pass out, who knows. Probably the bruise thing. So kid, don't be surprised to find a bruise sneaking out of my sleeve tomorrow.
