My uncle gave me this knife set thing for Christmas. They're kind of like exacto knives. Thirteen blades. It scared me how anxious I got when i saw them, they are a danger to me. I'm scared I'm going to break and go after them, tear my flesh to pieces.
Alyssa saved me from cutting any deeper. I'm trying to stop. I couldn't help myself last week, though. I scratched my arm but I'm proud of myself for not cutting deep.
She saved my life.
I'm falling again, though
I don't know why
I'm giving up
Giving up on life
If someone doesn't really save me
I could become lost
Or worse
Dead
I know you think I'm emotionally fucked, so do I. I AM. I don't know what triggered it to be this bad. But maybe it was always like this and I just never realized it.
YOU ARE READING
Broken
PoetryA true diary... It's about my life. My stupid shitty life. The pain and misery, loneliness and depression. In real time. Real things that happen to me and real feelings and thoughts.
