I thought I could just stab myself 25, no 27 times…. That’s it “27”. I don’t even want answers any longer. Their is no real explanation now is there Perhaps I wasn’t meant to be alive past my age. Thinking of bleeding from 27 different wounds that I inflict myself.
Numbing with one stab wound after another. Not even giving time for the blood to come to the surfuce from one to the next.
Ranging in depth and thickness. Not noticing until I am through the amount of blood seeping onto the floor.
Feeling no pain at all. Just a satisfaction to see all the blood. My blood that I wouldn’t want anyone else to ever see. Why?
Because the instant reaction is this. SHE’S FUCKING CRAZY! People never look beyond the external. Pure and simple, they do not care.
I wanted to do a survey and at random. Walk down the street of our tiny little town and ask: Hi, How are you? and follow with: Do you know I thought about dying today!
I wanted to get an honest answer. Perhaps it would be: I know how you feel, I thought about it too.
However, 80-90% chance the response would be FREAK. You need HELP and the police would be called.
Forget the sympathy what about empathy ?
Do we just not CARE?
Am I just your TARGET?
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