She will be loved
Friday, Jan. 03, 2003
I don't wanna be here
I hate myself. If I could hurt myself, I would. I don't know why I don't.When I take my blood sugar, I squeeze and squeeze and squeeze the blood out of my finger. It doesn't hurt and watching the blood well up makes me feel better for some reason. I sit at my desk staring at my finger, hoping that someone (no one in particular) will notice and ask me what I'm doing. But I guess that I'm invisible.
I guess, for me, inflicting pain on myself really is a cry for help. All I want is someone to notice that something is wrong.
I wanted to slit my wrists last night. I would've if I could've. Instead, I just ran my nails up and down the veins of my left arm, wondering what it would feel like. But I wouldn't do it, at least not yet. Amazingly, my pain hasn't hit bottom yet. But it doesn't have too far to go.
I wish that I would just die. If I killed myself, it would cause too much pain to people that I don't want to hurt, like my sister. But if I could just accidentally die, that would be nice. I want my life to be over. I'm sick of living it. I'm sick of being me. I can't take it anymore.
Watching/Hearing/Listening to: silence
Drinking:
Wearing: