everyone tells me that it's my fault that I feel this way and that I need to stop looking at the terrible side of things, and oh maybe they're right but how am I supposed to look on the bright side of things when the boy I'm in love with walked away five months ago and took everything with him except the voices in my head and my blade and that my mother and father are waiting for the day I turn eighteen so they can kick me out and not pay for my medical bills and the medication that I need to wake up each day and not **** myself.

but, oh maybe I'll look on the bright side of things when something good finally happens in my life and doesn't end in disaster and open wounds.