I feel nothing.

I wake up, go through the motions of the day. Lay down in bed that night, and let the agonizing pain I feel sing me to sleep.

I’m sick of it.

When there is the sun, I feel numb and lost. Without the sun this agony comes and follows me, everywhere.

I’ve tried to rid myself of this bland emotion. But its glued to me, and would hurt so much more to remove it, even though I KNOW that I will feel better afterwards.

Just to let you know, I have Si’d. This past month I’ve fought the urges with incredible strength. Now, I don’t feel them, I look at my scars and feel a small amount of regret. But I’m left in ashes.

I rarely cried before, now I cry daily. I’ve fallen into this cliche known as “emo” Isn’t that lovely?

No, it’s not, you cringe when you hear that. Everyone does, on the outside you may not, but your heart, it skips a beat doesn’t it? It makes you think, doesn’t it? Why does it do that though? “Emos” self harm, everyone knows that.

The thought, of someone wanting to intentionally cause themselves unbearable physical pain is mind-boggling isn’t it? Why do we do it?

We find a sick satisfaction in it. But it doesn’t satisfy for long, it naws at you, begging for more! It’s plausible, I suppose, that people are capable of rescuing these “emos.” I don’t think that all can be rescued, there are too many.

But there’s nothing we can do right now, to soothe the poor soul who is typing these words at this very moment. She is falling into this confusing depth, where she doesn’t want to SI but she doesn’t want to die.