tracing gently up and down,roughly 1 inch
from the top of her already scarred wrist.
planning the route she’s going to take
to ensure that she will no longer exist.
theres a quiet in the air tonight.
the wicked city is asleep.
she’s wondering: is all of this a nightmare?
or just a twisted kinda dream.
either way she has her plan now, and i dont think she’d
forgive herself if she were to back down.
if only she had a friend, out there on her own
she just says ”its fine,once i am dead, i wont feel so alone”
loneliness is definitely the catalyst to this bloody end.
you wont miss her though, darlings, so lets not pretend.
its all gone on long enough, dont you think?
imagining another day makes her physically sick,
alas, its a quater after two and she’s just delaying
what has been destined for her all along.
so she kisses her blade and gazes into the sky
and begins to write, her last goodbye.

I know that nobody will read this,but i really need to let it out. today is really tough. One year ago, on this day, I attempted suicide for the third time. And I got pretty close.I don’t really remember the actual hours when it happened much. Its just a huge blur of voices, flashing lights, needles and doctors. The bit that remains in my mind is when I was walking through the corridor to my room. I was thinking, omg, this is the last 12:00 i’ll ever know, these are the last clothes i’ll wear, that was the last show i’ll watch, that’s the last song i’ll hear. It was madness. I flicked through my contacts for a while, thought maybe I should say goodbye. I came to the conclusion that nobody would even care, so I switched it off and wrote on a post it note..
”I don’t know what hurts me the most; that fact nobody seemed to fight for me, or that I didn’t fight for myself. either way it’s a little late. I’m too far gone, too fucking fucked up to ever be okay again. I told you all that I didn’t think I could get better. you told me to stay strong, to try my best. well, story of my life.  my best want good enough. im not good enough. im not strong enough. Oh and don’t you dare cry over me. im not worth it. laters.”
Then it just blurs from there. I guess that’s when i actually ‘did the deed’.
I was found, and an ambulance was called. I was told it took 13minutes to resuscitate me, and I stopped breathing 2 times after that. Apparently I was lucky..I felt the opposite. I was disgusted with myself. Disgusted that i was alive. Thats how much I hated myself, and i’ll tell you all a secret- i still do. In my mind, I didn’t deserve to live. The whole world would be a happier, better place without me in it. I was sick of waking up each day, the mean words,arguments, the sadness.
I just gave up. A year on and I’d love to sit and say that im totally better, that i feel
alright. But id be lying. Its a constant battle. To this day ive made a total of 14 attempts. Some days are really difficult. Im not better and i dont think i ever will be. Thats terrifying. Im going to be fighting everyday for the rest of my life. But underneath everything, the wounds, the stories, the events. I’m still a painfully hopeful creature. Still hoping to fight this, still waiting. Always waiting. Hope is the last and only thing holding me up. I’m learning to smile again, and that’s not easy to do. I guess I like to believe that there’s more to life than this. Thank you super loads for listening, i love you all :D <3

I’m sorry for not being strong and tough

I’m sorry for never being good enough

I’m sorry for dreading each new day

I’m sorry for the amount that I weigh

I’m sorry for always crying at my reflection

I’m sorry i need help for my lifes protection

I’m sorry for the all tears I don’t manage to hide

I’m sorry that in you I cannot confide

I’m sorry that I bleed away my pain

And I’m sorry for each time i do it again.