I cut on Wednesday. I cut, on Lord of the Rings day. I cut, and I don't feel guilty. I only felt badly when Mike told me that I couldn't cut the heart I wanted... I wanted to cut a small heart near my elbow, on the inside of my arm. I wanted to see it bleed, like the heart inside of my chest that bleeds so frequently, crying in agony.
I look at my scars, and wonder what will happen if they fade away. I look at them when I'm naked, vulnerable, cold, and see the deep purple ache that they are. And I wonder how my life has come to this.
What have I done to deserve this pain? What have I done to deserve this grief, this soul-wracking loneliness that perverts my very mind, forcing me into a depression so deep that it cannot be breached?
What has happened to me?
What has happened to me?