I’m falling. And i’m falling fast, it feels like everything is happening around me not to me. I feel like carving life into my arm, because maybe that will help me feel. I feel empty, and careless. I hate homework, i hate school, i hate people. I just want to be alone. Like realllyyy fucking alone. I want to be able to do whatever it is that i have to do without constant distraction from people. Nobody really matters. I don’t want them in my fucking business all of the time. I DON’T GIVE A FUCK. I’m so sick of people “caring”. I don’t give a shit anymore. Why should you? I just wanna cut. CUT CUT CUT CUT CUT CUT CUT. But, noooo i can’t do that because it’s “unhealthy”. You know what i say? Fuck you and your ideas of what’s okay for me to do, or not do. Honestly, it’s not your body, it’s mine. And i can do whatever the hell i want with it. If i want to cut myself and smear my own blood on the walls then i’m gonna fucking do it. It’s my choice, it has absolutely nothing to do with anybody else, and i sure as hell do not need permission to do it. I want to drink, i wanna get high. I wanna trip balls. Anything but sitting here feeling empty, or miserable. I wanna drive fast, i wanna fight. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I NEED TO FEEL. I need to be able to cut. I need to be in control of what happens to me. I need to be in control of my life. Back the fuck off and let me live the way i want to.
Small simple safe price
Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets
This is not a small cut that scabs and dries and flakes and heals.
And i am not afraid to die.
I’m not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight.
I want the pain of payment.
What’s left but a section of pygmy sized cuts, much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks.
Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid.
To fill and spill over and under my thoughts.
My sad, sorry selfish, cry out to the gutter.
I’m cutting trying to picture your black, broken heart.
Love is not like anything.
ESPECIALLY A FUCKING KNIFE.
-The Used.
