Tag Archives: hurting-myself

Cutting thoughts

My eyes do not see, my images are blurred
The tears gather in my eyes but are never shed.

The bright red blood surges, longing to stain snow white skin.
I tremble.
I sway, lost in the joy of hurting myself.

I want my bed.
I want my home.
I want some peace.

Nobody sees my tears.
I am alone.



So once again I feel like hurting myself. Once again I know that I won’t no matter how I’m tempted. Once again I know that these are stupid thoughts. Once again I know that I should leave Hell and go home, credit crisis or not.

What fucking good are depression meds if they don’t work? What fucking good is my going to work when I cannot function? What fucking good is it to be on the edge of tears because one of my laziest colleagues just bitched about his workload? What fucking good is health insurance when I can’t afford to pay upfront?

Why did my ear choose now to get infected? Why does my body refuse to feel itself? Why am I still burning up with fever? Why can’t I say to hell with commitments and leave this Hell forever? Why can’t I sleep?

My eternal questions!