Little Miss

I'll Get Tough,
don't you worry about me anymore.
-some more song in between-
Little Miss Hide Your Scars,
Little Miss Who You Are
is so much more than you like to talk about.

Those are my favorite parts of that song because I relate so darn much to it. I know, I said I was going to bed, but I haven't been up even twelve hours yet and my mind is all over. There are lyrics on my computer's tower thing now (the title and the parts in bold). Those lyrics are on my hand. There may be lyrics all the way up my arm before I go to school tomorrow. I just don't want to cut. Like, there's that hopeless desire to do it because I feel like I should, but I don't want to, also. I don't want to hurt myself again. I'm doing so well right now.
All of this thinking reminded me of how nervous I was when my older brother came home from college. The last time we had talked, I told him I had been cutting since beginning of May, end of April. Then he came home and I thought for sure he would say something about it to me. Nothing. Not a word. We barely spoke except for when he first got there. Heck, my mom's even quit asking about it. Maybe I'm better at lying than I thought I was. Maybe tonight I could get away with it. I'm wearing long sleeves tomorrow... But what about PE? This chick named Kelly might be keeping an eye on me because I know she used to cut and she thinks I'm done cutting. I don't even tell L.G. (I'll update my people part later) that I still think about cutting for hours if I'm given time. I do, too. Cutting will consume me for hours if I don't give myself something to think about. It's a dangerous addiction and once you give into it becomes one of few ways you can think of to cope.
One cut on these fat wrists? Just one tiny one?