I have a blade in a box. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately... I’ve been clean since April. Last night I looked into the mirror, and I didn’t see the happy person I am. What I saw was the girl I used to be. The one that cried all the time, felt hopeless and lonely, the one that got so bad that she’d leave over a hundred cuts on her wrists, the one that would hide behind her music and hair and dark clothes and long sleeves... I saw a pale, sick looking face, and I saw dull eyes. I didn’t see me anymore. Everything feels so hard lately. That blade in that box is on my mind all the time now. And I don’t know what to do...