she doesn't want to be with me. that hurts. that really fucking hurts. and i take it out on myself. cutting has become a delicious secret again, something that i can do with me. why not? who else is going to touch me, tell me they love me, tell me i mean a lot to them. it makes my blood rush and my heart pound when i see deep scars on my arm. and after last night's little scene, i tore myself to fucking shreds until Erin made me put down the scissors. but it's mine now. and i can press down hard, make it hurt, carve a G into my arm, put it where i can see it and know what i've done to myself. she tells me, "you fucked it up, you fucked up this relationship."
that's because i'm fucked up.