I cry, I run.
I run, I grab.
I grab, I cut.
I cut, I bleed.
I bleed, I feel like I'm on Novocain.
I feel like I'm on Novocain, I feel sick.
I feel sick, I cry.

And the whole process starts over.

It sucks to sink so low. I never thought I would do this again, but I am. I have a new best friend, he's shiny, he's sharp, and he's mine. He doesn't tell secrets, and lets me get away with crying and talking about my problems without ever pestering me.


I never tell anyone because it becomes a worldwide epidemic when I do.

Oh, Maddy's depressed. Let's bug her and see if she'll tell us after hours of pestering! Fuck it.

I'm not suicidal, I need someone to talk to. I need someone I can cry to for hours and tell them how I feel. I need someone who has the time to listen, who has the patience to understand.

I want to talk to the one I believe I love, but I fear even confronting him about it. I hate this, it's eating at me.