Depression Session

I look at my boyfriend and think I’d tap that. Oh wait, I already did.

have you forgotten me? i miss you. so much. i miss being your friend, i miss laughing with you, i miss how nice you are. you are the only one i still want to talk to from back then. but you won’t talk to me. do you hate me? i don’t want you to hate me. i want our friendship back. i want to help you. i want you to help me. i want to hang out like we used to. i miss those times. i try to contact you but you won’t reply. please reply. i just want you to reply. i just want you back. please come back.

heres the thing, i want to do drugs, i want to smoke, i want to escape. but he won’t let me. i want to be so fucking high that i don’t feel a thing. i’ve never been high. i’ve never done drugs. i imagine it would be like being drunk but way better. when i’m drunk i zone out of everything. i love it. i can’t feel shit. i want to do drugs so badly. if only he would let me. but he won’t. and i hate it. it’s him or drugs. i’m afraid in the end i won’t choose him but i know i can’t live without him. he’s all i have now. i keep trying to convince him to let me but he just won’t. i don’t understand whats so bad about it. i just want to escape.

it had been so long. i was going so strong. maybe the medication was working. maybe i was just getting better anyway. but then it all got too much. i was so lonely. he may have taken my pocket knife but the kitchen was full of even sharper knives. no one was home. so i took one. i sharpened it. i made a tiny cut where my hand connected to my wrist. it bled. it was sharp enough. i took it upstairs. i felt crazy. i laughed. i was scaring myself but all i could do was laugh. i took off my dress. i stood in front of the mirror. i started cutting. i sliced it across the side of my body. it hurt. i never like the pain. i like the satisfaction that comes after the pain. i like to go to the mirror and lift up my top and see the beautiful red cuts. i feel proud. i feel satisfied. that’s how i felt. proud and satisfied. i had to tell him i’d done it again. he hated it. he was sad. he was so sure i was getting better. i was. until it all came back. i’ll do it again soon. i know i will. i won’t be able to help it. it will help me feel better for a while at least.