today, i didnt think about self harm at all. until now. all i want to do is drag that thin cold metal across my wrist until im drowning in my own toxic blood.
it doesnt hurt, not really. it just stings. i like that feeling, i crave that feeling. i wish i could do it again- but things stop me.
i like to wear cute shirts and dresses. i like to wear cute swim suits at the beach and on the boat. im scared of what my mother would say if she caught me doing it again like she did on the night of the first high school football game i went to watch. she was very upset. i cant really blame her.
in middle school it was bad. id count them to make sure they were even numbers. i once made it to 200. i was disgusted with myself but i loved the way the scars looked and how they stung when soap got in them.
i wish i could feel that again.
the scars on my arms are just a bit visible, i do not like those ones. i wish theyd go away. i only like the ones on my legs.
i wish i could start again.
YOU ARE READING
while i ache
Randomthis is me *to clarify: its a public journal there is going to be fucking spelling errors, deal with it this isnt me being a fucking attention whore, dont @ me
