Posted by: ImpendingDawn | March 24, 2011

Because I’m an emo kid.

I miss the days when it was just me and my self-harm. Get up, survive school, put on a normal face at home, cut. Wear long sleeves until the cuts heal, conspicuously wear a t-shirt to alleviate suspicion, cut again. Everything numbed, all pain controlled.

Now every time I drag a blade across my skin, someone else’s heart breaks. They never should have known. I never should have told them. It’s nice to have the support, but it’s not worth their pain.

I hate myself… I hate myself… I’m literally counting down the days until April. Then my arms will once again be filled with bloody lines, and I will finally feel depression’s warm embrace completely swallow me up. I’ve been called emo. I hated it. Why? I should accept it. This is who I am.

(Should I ask for help? Should I go to a therapist? Should I open up? No! They might convince you to stop. You need this, you deserve this. Succumb to it. Savor the darkness, embrace the pain. There will never be anything else for you.)

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Responses

  1. That’s why I’m terrified of letting the people around me know about the crap I’m dealing with. I won’t be able to run back to it without anyone trying to stop me. It’s like…ARGH JUST LET ME DESTROY MYSELF IN PEACE.

    • Exactly! People are just far too helpful these days. Sheesh. =P


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