15

it was getting better and now it's gotten worse.

thighs full of scars and arms full of cuts.

blood pooling on the floor. sirens ringing in the distance and screams ringing in your ears.

it didn't randomly start one day, no, there was a build up of it.

i don't know or remember what caused everything to fall apart

it is broken.

i am he and i am she and i like him and i like her and i cut and bleed for fun.

how sadistic.

i don't see myself as myself; who am i really?

why do i even bother writing if no one will spare a glance at this.

maybe it is so that one day in the future i'll look back at this and write a happy chapter, and assure my past self that everything'll turn out okay.

or maybe it's so i'll have somewhere to write my suicide letter. guess we'll never know till its too late, huh.

it's suffocating and i want someone to know but i don't want anyone to find out.

do you understand?

i doubt it. but thank you anyways.

hey, maybe everything'll get better soon. i sure as hell hope so. because if it never gets better, then what is the point of staying. i don't understand. do you?