I feel as though I’ve disappointed her- the girl that I love. I haven’t told her what I’ve done, but she probably saw it after school today. For all I know, she didn’t even notice the injuries; showing where I technically self harmed.  I’m just wondering if I’m going to do it again before she sees me tomorrow.
After what happened last night with my mom, I don’t care that I let myself feel pain. It was enough to remind me that I’m here, that I’m alive, that I don’t have to keep the tears inside of my heart forever. But the harming wasn’t enough to do any damage. I want to do it again, and even though this technically isn’t a form of self mutilation, I still feel guilty for doing this.
Why should I feel guilty for this? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t have to know. It’s not like this effects anyone but me. But I’m beginning to feel alone again. Although I know that I’m not alone, I feel as is though the heart dully pulsing in my chest is the only companion I have. Why is this? Why do I feel like this? Why do I over think everything so much that I end up writing out these songs about the aching in my heart, and the way that I feel dead inside when I know that there is a heart beating in my chest.
And now I’m ranting to the internet- billions of people who couldn’t care less about the chaos that is the fragments of my once whole mind. My mind feels like a hole. An empty whole that is nothing more then a waste of ink, a place where only the scrambled words of my former self beg to be heard in a world of nothing more then ink on a page.