People ask me why I do it.
If I told them everything, they'd call me a crazy psycho, I'm sure of it. They'd never understand. And I think that may be what scares me the most about all of this, the fact that I'm finally able to reason with the psychos.
It's not for the thrill. It's not for the attention. It's not even because it helps me feel better, really. Because it doesn't.
But, you still ask. Why would you do that? What would possess someone to literally take a blade and cut themselves open?
It's all in the emotion. One could argue that love is the most powerful thing in the whole world. But, really, if it was, it would've saved several times before. H a t e, however, is something so strong, so intense, it can actually control you, make you do things you never would've thought twice about doing in your right state of mind- you wouldn't even believe me unless you've felt the kind of h a t r e dI've felt for myself.
And so my answer to you, is that really; it's barely even me anymore. All this time, I've let the h a te for myself get too out of hand. I just sat there and pushed it aside while it grew and thrived off my insecurities- until it was finally too big to brush under the rug anymore, and I had to stare it straight in the face- and then what? I couldn't handle that. I let it get inside me, take over me, become me. Now, I'm just a selfish, heartless monster.
So, that girl that hides a pocket knife in her Gears of War messenger bag every day in school, just in case- that's not me. The girl who gets angry at herself for the littlest things and loses her mind completely- that's not me either. And the girl who slices her wrists open night after night so she can bleed the pain, and selfishness, and h a t r e d away- that's definitely not me.
So, I guess the question to ask, then, is, "Why does she do it? That h a t e f u l girl who's not you anymore?"
If you want the answer, you'll have to ask her yourself.
I've had enough of her.