The Baby Cries in Black and White (journal + poetry)

Just words

It's a wonder why I'm even here again, dark room with only the light of my phone screen, writing words that I'll regret in the morning. Though will I really regret them? What does it mean to regret, really? To wish it had never been done, I suppose. And do I really wish I had never put my thoughts somewhere? Maybe.

I can feel the torture of numbness wash over my body with such contempt. It's been zero days since I last fucked up, I can tell by the stinging across my arms.

I feel too much, yeah it's numb, but it's still too intense. I want it to all be gone. I don't want to feel anything anymore, it's not worth it.