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.

If you just ask me to out my blades on your nightstand while casually checking your email on your iPhone, it won't happen.

If you offhandedly remind me to eat while heading out the door for a few hours, it won't happen.

And if you tell me living is worth it while slapping me in the face with a ton of mistrust and coldness, it won't happen.

Trust me.

i love that it took 30 slits for you to realize I needed help. Thanks for leaving me at the emergency room by myself. Don't you ever ******* dare touch me again. I just want to die.

I don't think I truly ever knew love fully until I realized my terror at your heartbeat faltering for only half a second during an hour long embrace.

Please, be safe.

Please, know I love you.

Please, know I didn't mean to miss you.

Please, know I can't wait to see you more than anything.

And please. Know I'm scared.