If I was stronger.

I wouldn't have these scars, these cuts.
I wouldn't have hunted for a sharper razor blade.
I wouldn't have found one.
My thumb, my wrist, wouldn't be bleeding.

Heck, if I was stronger, I wouldn't know that I like cutting my right wrist,
or that I like using my left hand for cutting.

If I was stronger, I'd be crying after cutting,
not slightly content.
It's been...a while since I was this bad. Guess a trip down memory lane caused this and I was weak enough to give in.
I carry less baggage than most of you out there, but mine came from my friends. Or, who I thought were my friends. They didn't believe me, lied to me, told me to kill myself (as you got to read in the last post). When someone asks why I see a therapist, I say simply because I'm crazy, with a grin on my face. Those are the actual reasons (plus my dad fuckin with my self-esteem).
Those of you who want to cut, don't. It hurts. Physically, and eventually emotionally.
Those of you who hurt yourself in any way, I'm sorry you hurt so much that you do.

I need some sleep.
Sorry to those I upset by cutting. I know you want me to quit, but... I dunno.:/ I just don't.
Goodnight, darlings.