The dripping of blood stolen by the blade
Tears streaming down her cheeks and rolling off her face
Flesh splitting open with just one slice
"Next time," she cries, "next time will be the last time."
But the truth is she doesn't really want to die
She just can't stand to live with the pain that she's in
The pain, the torture that only she can end
The next time she presses down even harder, heart beating fast
She counts down from ten and pulls the blade across her skin
The world around her growing dim
If only they would've cared
If only someone had been there
The reality of it all is sad to say the least
But the girl left there to bleed would surely disagree
She got exactly what she wanted - the end to her constant grief
Darkness destroyed by darkness, a soul at last put to peace...

I lose myself when I walk away from you.

I know.
I'm not supposed to.

I'm meant to be strong and sure.
I'm meant to be brave.
I'm meant to be independent.

And I am.

It's just so much easier with you there.
Right beside me.
Holding my hand.
Lending me strength when I have nothing left to give.

I am independent.
I swear.

Just sometimes I don't want to be.

my worst habit is my tendency
to binge
on absolutely everything.

“moderation”
you remind me, constantly.
to that I say,
my precious
as I consume
   consume
        consume


i don’t like my sober mind.
i feel too much like
my mother,
whose worries eat her alive.

inebriation gives me
the power
to not give a ****!
something i lack when in sober thought.

****,
it’s like anything and everything
causes a stress and worry
i just want to be away from it
for a little while.

that little awhile
being every day
at every chance i get.

The world around me is revolving slowly
While the people surrounding move faster & faster
As I am caught in between the fibers of time

Why am I here?
Do I even belong?

My only therapy is the songs I hear in my head
My only medication is the drugs that make me wish I were dead

I'm just a shell of my former self.
I'm not what I used to be.

It seems there's no resolution,
only an empty cell waiting for me in this institution.

Dear diary, please help me now.

There's only so much abuse I can inflict upon myself.

The cuts on my wrist, the empty bottle of pills
The lacerations on my fist, shaking from the anger still.

I've got my fix, each line getting me higher
The only answer getting clearer, as my lows keep climbing to the ladder.

My sanity escaping.
Depression creeping
As the ghost of death takes over me.

Oh diary, it seems it's goodbye to you and me.
It seems no matter what I do, the world isn't going to accept me.

I'll never belong.

I'll always be different.

Goodbye and goodnight.

I'll see you on the other side.

----------------------------

Dear diary, I'm an addict.

Yesterday was proof of concept.

Tomorrow is a death wish.

If I don't do something now,
I may never get to see the light of day.

Dear diary, please help me now.

Because I can't do this alone anymore.