That’s what always starts it.
Not having anything to do, but lay there and think about all the problems
in yourself and in your life.
You get to thinking and realize
I hate everything about myself.
You find yourself reaching for a blade
and dragging it across your fragile, pale skin.
Blood dripping out.
You pass out
to not only see the scars in the morning,
What if I never get help?
Do I even want help?
Honestly, I don’t know if I can answer either of these.
I just want to give up..