I see myself doing these crazy things like slicing my skin with razorblades or jamming piercing needles into my veins and watching the blood drain down the sink. I know these things are crazy, but I can’t stop.

I hate myself and my life – everything about myself disgusts me. I yearn for . I want to die. The urge to do it myself is so powerful, but I cannot do it. I’m not afraid of or killing myself. I can’t do it because my pride and the I feel for my and a few . I know they would be very ashamed of me and I can’t bear that. I want people to remember good things about me… before I drove myself crazy.

I don’t know what to do anymore

I keep reaching out for a lifeline, but they are always temporary. I go through the motions; hoping that no one notices the void within me.

I hurt so much. My pain is constant. I have no one to lean on, and even if I did I couldn’t confide these things – because then they would know I’m crazy. It is better to have people around and be lonely than to be alone and lonely.
I am incapable of being happy.

Nothing makes the pain go away – food, tv, pot, liquor, , , – nothing, except maybe love, but that is a gift that I don’t deserve. I’ve been unloved since birth and it will be so until my death. Suffering shall fill this lifetime.

I know something is wrong with me but I’m either too proud or too stubborn to get help; I dull the pain which ever way I can while waiting for my life to end.

I need to cry, but I can’t let myself show any weakness. I can let myself bleed, so that’s what I’ve been doing in order to release some of this festering pain before it makes me explode. Cutting and bloodletting are the only things that numb the burning emptiness within me enough to put on my mask and face the world. Unfortunately, no amount of my spilled blood thus far has been able to quench the internal flames; in fact, the more I make myself bleed, the more I feel that white hot searing pain, but at least it’s on the outside instead of inside.