No like seriously what jlihjhbjyh the **** is wrong with me. See that? That beautiful little key smash? I misspelled something and then proceeded to ******* aosdklfjaksetiovarkjgozlscrmfkajzhulfkj, aZDk,avjz.zdkf,zvjukfjcufck happened again but because I got mad that it wasn't loading faster so I'll ******* type later or something *******.

Edit: I'm sorry. I'm sort of hanging by fragile strings, and I think that I'm going to end up really ******' something up because I just can't ******' do this, y'know? Every little thing ****** me off. And I know for a fact that no one is going to get exactly how I feel, which just frustrates me. It also makes me happy, because as long as no one knows how this feels, they won't feel this pain, I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. I wish I'd just do it already, **** myself and ****. I don't know why I haven't, maybe I'm just hopeful that MAYBE ******' MAYBE it'll get better. MAYBE I'll learn **** better, and get over everything better and ******' survive and ****, I'll like. IDK. Be better one day maybe. BUT ISN'T THAT *******? Is anyone really gonna ever ******' be better? EVER? I doubt it. we're all ****** up, and there's really no fixing it. If I don't ******' hurry and **** my ****** self someone else needs to do it. ******' shoot me, please. Carve these ****** arms and legs, this stomach, this chest, these ******* eyes need to come out, c u t m e. If I scream, take out my tongue, I deserve this. I deserve these feelings, don't I? Why would I have them if I didn't deserve them, where the **** is my ******* serotonin. I hate it here. I ******', well hell. WHAT THE **** IS WRONG WITH ME.

I'm a little upset that this isn't very long. Nowhere as long as the others, and a  huge part of me is worried that I'm losing motivation and words and that I'll be repetitive, so all I have is this last thing, and then maybe I'll never really write again.

just kidding, I have something in my drafts that I've been working on.
I'm just ******.

I don't like being touched but I think I want to be hugged right now if that makes sense?

But don't touch me, I don't want to be touched. I really don't. I want to just.. ******'. I don't know.

I want to be talked to, yknow?

But at the same time, I'm not gonna ******' open up about ****.

I mostly just want to talk to my girlfriend, but now I've got it in my head that all I ever do is talk about myself, which makes me ******, but now that I have to talk or else I might actually just ******* end it- it's a bit ****** y'know? I don't know what the **** I'm doing.

edit part two: Jesus **** she ******* hates me doesn't she, I should shut up I should never ever ever talk I should never talk shut up shut up holy **** I really hurt her don't I
she's been hurt so ******* much why
why do I have to make it worse for her
I swear I love her I swear I love her
I swear I do.
I'm so ******.
I'm the toxic one.
IT'S ME.
IT'S ME.
IT'S ME.
IT'S ME.
IT'S ME.
IT'S ME.
IT'S ME.
IT'S ME.
IT'S ME.
IT'S ME.
IT'S ME.
IT'S ME.

it's always been me.


I'm so sorry. I'm going to work on it. I'll carve my issues from my skin until you love me again. I can be worthy of your love I promise.

Strings,
So finely woven
Entwined with threads of truth,
Of harsh realities
And with every cut,
The weight grows unbearable
And the unbearable becomes restless
Until you're holding onto
Latching onto
Fingers burning onto
The last string
The last standing string
- that is Faith.

My lover has a scar
Just above her hipbone;
It's not a small ****,
a forgotten accident.
They're words -
Straight lines she etched
Deliberately,
Slowly,
Painfully.

I trace my fingers softly,
Not to wake my love,
But I can't soften their bite.
Words of cruel warning,
An order, imperative.
Commanding, even faded,
Echo a silent scream.

They mock me, mock us,
For they still have a hold:
She is only half mine.
They hurt me, cold,
Like unblinking eyes,
Knowing that she stares back
Every day.

I barely brush them,
Intruders on soft skin,
Indelible scripture
Of darkness within.

And they keep whispering:
don't eat.

Would my grave be
deeper than my wounds?

Would the warmth of the morning sun
still reach my rotten body?

Would Icarus, my bird, fly to the sun looking for me
Is my selfish death going to cost him his wings, too?

Would the worms weep when
they ******* tormented flesh?

tw self harm




If I wasn’t worried about scars...

I... I wouldn’t stop...

I’d go over and over and over again
Pulling the blade across my arm
Everywhere
Use all the space now
Fill it all in
Til there’s nothing left
Nothing untouched
My forearms bleeding and raw...
Because... well...
If I wasn’t worried about scars...
There’d be no reason to stop

tw self harm



I should regret it
I should regret every pull of the blade
Every drop of blood spilt
I should... I should I should...



Why don’t I...?



I wanted to bleed
I accomplished that

I wanted it to hurt
I suppose it likely did...

I wanted red.
I found it.

I wanted peace
So I made it.

crimson beads
on a pale wrist
blade digging
white-knuckled fist
tears flood
from sparkling eyes
wishing for
a quick demise
a painful love
piercing heart-flesh
lips like velvet
on cuts still fresh
a dream of a lover
of someone so sweet
a lovely human
to make me complete