I was doing just fine before you. I was happily killing myself slowly. I was happily skipping a meal or two to attain my goal weight. I was happily bringing forth crimson from my wrists. I was happily cursing my lungs with nicotine. I was happily drowning my liver with my pain. I was happily craving the attention of anyone who'd listen. I was happy killing myself, but then you asked me to try.

You asked me why. You asked me to stay. You say that you love me. But who could love a girl with scars? Certainly not the kind that I have. I have too much emotional baggage that I wouldn't want to drag you into. But you still you say you love me. You say you need me.

You don't catch how I cringe before you hold me close. You don't know why commitment is so hard for me. You don't know why I don't want marriage. You don't know why I don't want ***. You don't know the reasons I bawl at night. You don't know why I stay home from school some days. You don't know why I lie to every single person who cares about me. You don't know why I want to die.

Yet you ask me to try. And I forget about all of those things. And I believe you. I believe that maybe you're right. And maybe you're just right for me.