I'm picking me apart again.
I'm safe here, Unless I try to start again.
Inside, I'm confused.
Why do I have to scream?
Why do I say what I don't mean?
What's wrong with me?
I thought I broke the habit?
Memories consume me.
I hurt much more now than before.
There were no other options.
What's worth fighting for?
Why do I have to scream?
How did I get this way?
I look at my wrist at the red wound, that's bleeding.
I've cut myself, with the blade on the Clear wrap.
It burns. But it feels good.
I've opened wounds,
My parents don't know I cut, Some of my friends do....But they don't know I still do.
I know it's not alright.
I'm trying to break the habit.
I lock the door and try to catch my breath again.
Why do the battles always choose me?
I don't want to be here.
I want to be alone in a dark corner with my music and a blade.
I don't want to be in this house with you and him anymore.
He is no good...No matter how many times my 'Step-dad' apologises, it's never enough.
This place is not home.
I cut.
This life is not as good as you said it would be.
I cut.
You lied.
I cut.
He yells.
I cut.
You yell.
I cut.
You take it out on me..
I cut and cry and scream and it feels as though my insides have been ripped out.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
It's the easier way out.
You said God has a path for me?
But did I say that I believe in God?
Do I even believe in God?
With my past? It feels like God hates me.
I don't regret my choices in life because well, It's the only way I can express my self.
You said be open-minded.
I did.
You fucked up my words and turned them around.
You said speak my mind.
I did.
You didn't want to hear my side.
What the fuck is wrong?
Why am I the one that has to relive you and dad breaking up?
Why do I have to feel bad?
Why do I have to pretend like every things A-okay when its all really seriously fucked up?!
Why don't you ever listen to me?
I was right, but you went back to him right after you left.
You said that If he gets better then we stay.
Well, fuck. I want to leave.
So there's only 2 options.
I wait until February to leave.
Or I kill myself slowly.
It's my life its my body not yours.
I can do with it as I please.
