Last chapter.
I'm not sure what is going to happen after this.
I'll probably try to get better
I'll probably fail at getting better
I really don't know.
I might make another book.
But I keep have these thoughts. The bad ones. But these ones are trying to get me to drown out the pain in other ways.
Cutting doesn't work anymore
They tell me to get into alcohol or drugs.
To start taking pills.
I know it's wrong but the thoughts are very tempting.
I know if I start, I won't be able to stop. I have the addiction gene in me. My dad was or is an alcoholic. I don't blame him.
We all have our own way of drowning out the pain whether it be drugs, alcohol, popping pills, burning, cutting or just self mutilation, we all have our own way to take the pain.
Maybe it's time I try to find a new way to drown the demons.
Also. New book. Called making the sorrow fade.
YOU ARE READING
The broken
PoetryThe stinging burn of the water from my fresh cuts. The hot salty liquid streaming down my red hot cheeks. The times I am in so much pain that I can't even cry anymore.
