I’m trying so hard. To be happy, to not be a bitch. To not cut.
And I haven’t cut in over a week. 10 days. It’s getting so hard.
I’m trying to distract myself. I bake all the time. I clean. I keep myself moving, so that I don’t have time to think about the feeling swelling inside of me. I’m restless. It’s a giant wave of anger that I normally inflict upon myself, but I don’t want to anymore. You’re trying to get me to stop. I’m trying for you. But I feel it inside of me. I shake. I don’t make any sense, I ramble on and on about things I don’t even remember saying.
I feel so angry and full of pain that I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to punch someone, something, anything. I want to break someone like how I feel broken.
I don’t want to be broken anymore. I want to be whole again, but I’ll never be in mint condition again. I’ll always have these scratches on me. Imperfections. I’ll never be the same. That’s what scares me the most. Maybe I’ll never be together again. Maybe there’s always going to be something wrong with me, maybe I’ll always be crazy. Maybe I’ll always be alone.
After all, no one wants to love the damaged goods.