march

March 27th, or maybe the 28th, 2023.

Looking lowly again on the fact that I was still breathing.

I was standing in the bathroom staring in the mirror with tears flowing down my face.

It was the purest shade of red from every single sob I tried to hold in.

How can I let anyone know where I am in my own mind?

Up until now I've only dug knives into my arms and my legs.

I knew it wouldn't do any real damage, but that was never really my goal.

My goal in these scenarios was just to cause pain.

The pain was to make me feel like I deserved it.

March 27th wasn't a typical need for an arm or in the leg, and pain wouldn't be enough to be a severe enough punishment.