Today is the day that I throw away my 6 months clean.
I push the razor into my leg, as deep as I can.
I push it across my skin.
I cry as I watch the blood poor down my leg, and onto the blanket under me.
How am I going to explain this one.
I'm so sick of making excuses for everything.
When I live on my own, I'm going to do this everyday.
It doesn't matter, because I won't have to worry about my mother seeing me naked.
I've been waiting to be able to do this everyday for a long time.
I consider doing it as much as I crave now but I hold back for the sake of my mom.
I can finally do this to my wrists and hands again once I'm on my own.
I hope no ones ever around me.
I will paint pictures out of my blood.
I will hurt everyday just to feel better.
Thinking about it makes me want to sleep for the next year and a half, just so I can be ready to go when I wake up.
Eighteen. I'm exited. I want it so bad.
I'm exited to drag a razor across my skin whenever I please.
I crave it.
