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Sent to a friend I hate myself. I hate that. This constant self-loathing affects everything I do and have ever done. I have contemplated my own suicide so many times, and I feel like a pussy for not following through. Every time I pull that knife across my arm, I hope I strike a vein, and then maybe it'll be to late to come back. I'm ashamed of the scars, but it truly makes me feel better. On more than one occasion I've sneaked the knife under my sweatshirt and into my room, right past my parents, where I slash my arm again and again. I hate it. It makes me feel the best I've felt in months, but I hate it. I'm sick of not trusting anyone. I compress all of my emotions, my secrets, my pain and my pleasure into a seething pit of acid that burns away at my self-esteem constantly. I don't tell anyone anything, and because of that I hate myself. I hate myself for hating myself, and now I'm caught in an evil, self destructive cycle that I can't get out of without getting help, but I don't trust anyone. The world feels so empty all of the time, but when I try to escape, I'm to much of a coward to commit, and hate myself even more. I want help. I hate myself.Rating:0.00
