I don�t care what happens from here on end
Sunday, Sept. 28, 2003 @ 14:02
Why did this have to happen?
I was never compelled to do this.
It felt good. The rush... The pain. The feeling of warm, fresh blood.
Slitting of the wrist. It bled so much.
I�m afraid I already said too much. This pain is much worse than freshly made coffee spilled, and dripping down your legs.
I told my mum it was the cat that scratched me. I don�t think I can hide it anymore. She is forcing me to go to the hospital, but I refuse!
Is it really my fault for doing this?
Do I always have to be blamed? Being the fucking victim of all my mothers� abuse.
I can�t pretend to be content anymore. The truth scares me, but the pain is real, and hard to bare with...
Well, I don�t feel like I belong here. Like I should be somewhere else. Wouldn�t that be easier on my mum?
I�m sick of being so paranoid, sick of being everyone�s problems, sick of crying. So sick of being worthless. I�m sick of being your entertainment, because its not cool feeling like this. How could this happen, to anyone?
If I go to school tomorrow, I can fake a smile and say �hello� and no one will ever know while this pain continually gnaws at my core. And it�s getting so fucking hard to take...
I am losing touch, slowly... And I can feel it. I don�t know how to stop it. It�s taking over me... I can�t escape from it! I don�t care. I have no choice but to confide to it. Confide to the blood.
I�m ruthless enough to hide it. Afraid to reveal what rawness lies under the black long-sleeved shirts. What else am I capable of?
What excuse do I have to get up tomorrow? I knew I never had a life to begin with anyway. Bye-bye
Jenna
P.S.: I hope it�s not the last time I right in here but at the same time I do....
*Song: Evanescence � �My Tourniquet�
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