I just cut the word WEAK into my arm.

I never cut my arms. I don’t know why I did. I guess I just don’t care anymore. I don’t care about anything anymore. I don’t want to do anything. I have no motivation. I just… I don’t know. I don’t care anymore.

It’s all just fake. Everything I am is fake and I can’t keep it up anymore. I just broke down and now I ruined another part of my body.

I don’t care all that much though. It’s just who I am.

It isn’t a ‘cry for help.’ I was done with that years ago. I can’t be helped ever. I’m not okay. I never have been okay. I never will be okay.

I’m weak. Nothing is actually happening to me to make me sad. It’s just in my head. My stupid head that just is so fucked up and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it.

Everything is just a mess up there and I have no idea what to do. There’s nothing left to do. I’m a lost cause. I’m completely broken.

I feel fuzzy. I’m tired as hell and I took 2 of my emergency klonopins before I cut because I was having this weird meltdown. I was completely calm. My brain wasn’t going a million miles an hour. I wasn’t crying or having an anxiety attack… I could just feel myself dying inside. I could feel it. It scared me. It made me realize how fucking weak I am. I got angry. So I cut. 

And I want to cut more and more and more until there’s nowhere left to cut.

Thinking about telling my mom about this. Thinking about going back to psych… I don’t know if I want to or not. It sucked but it was strangely comforting.

My mom might take me there again. Maybe I’ll get put in the adult ward this time. She won’t have to dedicate so much time to my fucked-up-ness like she did when I was in adolescent. She had to go to parent groups and shit.

Maybe I should pack a bag and get ready to go.

I’m so fucked up right now from the pills and the adrenalin and the exhaustion. I don’t even know what I’m talking about.

I might need stitches. A few of the cuts are so deep that they split open and I can see my…insides. I can open and close them with my fingers. it’s weird. But I know I did good.

I’m so messed up. Just so fucking messed up.

I need to get some sleep. Time to find a shirt with sleeves.