Let's face it, no matter how much therapy I'm givin, I'm never gonna be not depressed.
My brains fucked up. It's programmed itself to cut for the hell of it. To draw pictures with a knife 'cause it's fun.
Yeah.. Im definitely fucked up XD
But, who cares? As long as I don't die right?
I can cut my wrists and slice my leg, get stitches after stitches, scars after scars. But at least I'm livin.
My mind has been calling lately. Calling for me to stab my thigh with a knife, or slit my wrist and watch as blood pours out.
And I'm so close to answering...
This. Is my call for help.
But I doubt anyone will answer
