i’m posting too much about this on my other blog

but i jus tcried with myu roomate jfor like half an hour

im too good for this

i miss bella

i miss my friends

i need chayya

i need people

i cant do this i can do the work but i cant like i just want to go home

Ow.

So you cut, cut cut, until your hands shake and your head spins and you puke yor innards out. And you hug the toilet close to you like its your only friend. And you ignore the voice screaming at you from beyond the bathroom door, telling you not to eat at all of you’re going to watse this way. And you think of how you’ll wear shorts this summer as you clean the red off yor thigh, and how the cold seat will feel on your scars then. And you think of how they’ll be easy to hide under a desk, how no one will notice anyway. And when she grips you by your jaw on your way out, and it hurts, you wish she could break it in, to break you how you feel. You don’t even feel the need to figh back anymore as she slaps you for saying something rude. You just wonder about the sting and the burn and if peroxide will do the same at the gashes on your inner thighs.

The fact that I used to use this blog as a side to your person side blog hurts.

It hurts seeing you everywhere. It hurts seeing how happy you made me.

It hurts that you never replied to my apology.

But, I am not stable enough to connect with you anymore.

I’m sorry.

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