I’m not sure if I want to die. I know I want to bleed; I want the pain.

A nick on the external jugular would cause a slow continuous bleed, enough to stain my sheets.

I don’t need anyone I can live by myself. Go away.


Oh god, please help me. It’s here again. My moods drop to their all time lows and I find more ways to sabotage myself. I look for reasons why I don’t deserve happiness, and I don’t. I make ways to not be happy. I can’t be happy; it’s unfair. 

There’s a stone at the pit of my chest, weighing me down, making it hard to breathe. “Why should I be happy?” it asks. I don’t deserve it. 

Help oh god help I don’t know what to do I want to cut myself so badly I can’t think.