Nobody knows the pain inside of me. Nobody knows the person I live with daily. Nobody knows the voice inside of my head telling me I'm worthless. Nobody knows that underneath all of my smiles and laughs, I believe it. The more I focus on it, the worse my depression gets, it becomes to tempting. My wrists and thighs are now blank canvases waiting for some sign of feeling, but I can't. The people who beg me over and over are the ones who save my life. Even though I've sworn I wont do it again, there's something about those blades, something comforting of just seeing them, so soothing I just can't seem to bear the feeling of getting rid of them. The worse my depression gets, the more comfortable with it I get. I thrive on sadness, on depressing music, literature, videos, etc. I've learned to deal with it. I've dealt with it for so long, that the devil inside of me has become my friend. Good job, friend. You've won.