Looking down at myself I wonder
When did i come to be like this?
How did i come to the point of not being able to look at myself?
A simple glance towards my hands makes me feel sick.
If i look at my whole body i turn away.
Not being able to bear looking at the person in front of me.
When did it get to the point of where I could care less about what happened to me?
When did it come to the point of where i depended on the blade for comfort?
When did it come to the extent of me not being able to live without it?
When did it come to the point of where i thought about wanting to die every second of my life?
Why did I end up like this?
