I don't want to think, because i'm not sure these thoughts are even mine.

I want to have a future, i want to build dreams and smile without resent. I want to write, laugh and love. I want to make people proud of me. But, i can't let myself see any of that...for as long as i am me.

Everything is okay, as long as it is not. Life is perfect, but only because i stand here stained from head to toe in blood. Drips decorating the floor, shivering cold and naked.

Each day must be payed for, by self hatred and by pain. I need to be able to say 'look, i'm suffering.' - my excuse for being here, an excuse for not being dead.

And...i never wanted anyone else to see, i never wanted them to care. I never ever wanted to hurt anyone, but i have. And i hate myself so much for that. I want to scrub the floor clean of crimson spots, so nobody will slip up on them, but to remain soiled myself.

I have tried so many times....to heal, tried for so long to repare the wounds. I have, i really have. But it's not getting me anywhere.

I can't believe i am still here.

A million regrets and mistakes later, still falling. Repeating the same 'i'm sorry' as i rip myself apart.

Chronic? Or just pathetic?

Whatever it is, it's killing me.