She keeps saying I'm not trying to get better.

I don't even understand why I'm like this, why my emotions are so demanding, why my skin aches to be carved into designs and swirls of the brightest hues of red.

If I knew, I'd explain.

But apparently, information that slips my lips is nonexistent. I'm not trying to get better, I don't want to get better, I'm not accepting the help she tries to offer...

Would it hurt you a bit to just listen? I can barely speak as it is, but when I do,the yelling overpowers it.

I just want a hug. And friends.

And death.