i laugh hysterically

as i continue to cut.

damn it feels so good.

no matter how badly i cut,

the pain always comes back.

that's just the way life works.

right?

at least the cuts make the pain

momentarily stop.

that's a good reason to cut.

isn't it?

no matter how much beer i drink,

the pain comes back after i'm sober.

drinking isn't that bad.

is it?

no matter how many pills i take,

the pain comes back once i wake up.

i don't overdose to stop the pain...

do i?

i've stopped eating.

i've stopped sleeping.

but i continue to cut.

i continue to drink.

i continue to overdose.

i think i've got my priorities messed up.

i do.

do i?

i feel so close.

so close to non other than death himself.

he's ready to take me.

he's waiting for me with open arms.

no longer will the blade have to catch me.

no longer will the beer have to catch me.

no longer will the pills have to catch me.

death will catch me when i fall.

so laugh at me.

call me "emo".

call me "fat".

call me a "whore".

i cannot deny these things.

so please speak the truth.

holy fuck.

when did i let myself get like this?

i always figured i'd be better than this.

stronger.

i guess i was wrong.

was i?