Everyday.



Yes, is it, indeed, sad.
I see my body as a piece of paper to write stories on.
I can’t even look at sharp objects anymore without judging how good they’d be.
When people find out, everything changes. You’re no longer just hurting yourself.
I continue to cut even after everyone believes I have stopped. The cuts are getting deeper.
“Oh, that? Yeah, I was just playing around with the cat..”
It started as just curiosity, then habit, and now it’s a full blown addiction.
It’s funny really, what a smile can hide.
I don’t know if I’m getting better or just used to the pain.
Sometimes it hurts more to smile in front of everyone, then to cry all alone.
It’s hard to answer the question “What’s wrong?” when nothing’s right.
I cut to remind myself that I can still feel. Even if it is only momentarily.
Confession #18: I cut because it shows me that I’m still living. No matter how monstrous and whimsical everything seems.
Confession #17: I cut to prove to you that you’re not the only one that can hurt me.
Confession #16: Telling me that it’s not okay isn’t going to change the way I feel, or make me stop doing it.
Confession #15: My scars mean so much to me. Every dark line down my thigh tells a story.









:’(

aseaofquotes: Andrew Clements, Things Not Seen

Relevant.


mykindafairytalee: untitled by we live young on Flickr. You took it. You took it all out of me.



quote-a-lyric: Augustana - Boston Submitted by imjusthalfwaythere.tumblr.com








Autor: CHOCAROME

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