If only I was happy
Monday, Sept. 01, 2003 @ 01:39
I cut because I am dead inside. I cut because my internal scars won�t heal.
I cut because I want to die. I cut because I feel alive.
I cut because I'm guilty. I cut because I feel guilty about cutting myself.
I cut to feel, and I cut because I feel too much.
I cut because I am never content. I cut because something is missing.
And I cut because I have control of it. I cut because I'm afraid.
It saves me from my depressed mind. When I'm happy I cut because I don't deserve it. When I'm sad I cut. I cut because I don't know how not to.
I cut when I fail. I cut more when I pass, because I don't deserve it. I cut to forget. I cut to remember the pain I was forced to feel. I cut to feel the pain I inflict on others because they don�t deserve it. I cut because I deserve the pain I can inflict on myself.
I cut to live. Each time I drag the blade deeper and come closer to making the fatal incision, all I want to do is live.
I�m different though. I don�t find comfort in the scars. All I want to do is hide them, deep down. But rather the blood. I cut to feel the blood. I cut to taste the blood and hope it doesn�t run dry. And I find comfort in the physical pain. Sometimes it doesn�t last long enough, and my mind goes crazy.
Sometimes I want to cry, then scream. Other times, I want to die. And then I think of how much there is to look forward to. And what I am able to do. If only I was happy, but I wont be. Knowing I hate me. And, I don�t know how much longer I can live with that....
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