I've made myself bleed.
The thought of doing it never occurred to me.
But I was curious.
I wanted to know what it was like to slice open your skin.
To play with knives and blades.
To have blood dripping.
And now that I've done it,
I promised to never do it again.
But the thought of doing it is addicting.
I like the pain.
I like the endorphins released.
I like the feel of it.
I like how it takes away my pain for a moment.
I might do it again.
I might never stop.
Here's to hoping I will be saved.

*(n.d.)

April 19, 2010

to you, this is just a past date
to me, it's when I found out I was too late
too late to save her from her misery
to help, to stop, to make her happy.

you left this world without
any warnings or goodbye's
I still to this day ask myself
why did you have to die?

I know you're in a better place
I just wish you were happy here
although you aren't alive anymore
your presence and soul is near

the day you died
I can't explain the tears
I hate the thought
of you not being here

I just wish you didnt
hold it all inside
or decide the only way to be happy
was to commit suicide

I always think about you
I'll even shed a tear
it's just sad to think
it's already been three years

I'll never forget you
or the memories we shared
memories with anyone else
could never compare

you were always there for me
that's what best friends do
right up until the end
I will always love you