Nuisance

I want to crawl into a cave and stay there forever. To just rot and wither away like I was nothing. I can't see myself accomplishing anything in this life. 'This life' - I say that like I expect there to more after this. But I don't.

Death seems like a peaceful option - for me anyway. Closing my eyes, never having to open them ever again, experiencing an eternity of darkness. It must be just like sleeping. A never ending sleep. I want that. I need that.

I hate living. I look in the mirror and feel disgusted. I'm an awful creature, designed in a way to keep myself alive. To keep breathing. In and out and in and out. I feel my heart beating everywhere. I can feel the blood pumping through me. If my surroundings are quiet enough, I can sometimes hear it. And I cannot stand it.

A blade, a handful of pills, a noose, a bridge, a car, a thousand ways to go.

I don't just hate what I am, I hate who I am. I'm a self obsessed, nervous, ignorant, judgmental, complicated little idiot. I over think things and assume the worst in everyone and everything.

When I cut myself, it's a relief. Finally I can take all my feelings out on something. Me. The person who causes everything! It's me who thinks so lowly of myself, of other people. It's me who wants to die. It's me who couldn't care less about anything around her. I'm the one that should be punished. When I watch my skin drag across a blade, it feels so good. So so good. Watching the blood trickle down is numbing. The pain - the emotional one - leaves for few moments. Relief. I can breathe, even just for a few short seconds.

For however long it takes for the scars to heal, I have an easy torturing device. Throughout the day, a gently tug on my sleeve causes the scabs to hurt once more. It stings, sometimes thread gets stuck inside the scabs. More pain, more relief. Sitting on the bus or walking into class, I can do it anywhere at any time.