It wasn’t an accident, my hand didn’t slip - the gouges in my wrist aren’t paper cuts and I don’t even care if you realize it or not. What makes it so ridiculous is the way I see myself when I’m happy isn’t how I really look. But the physical stuff is only part of it. I don’t have anything inside worth saving either. So don’t think I’ll leave too much of a gap behind. Insurance to cover the debt, my parent will take care of the cat, and the rest of my life and possessions will deteriorate with time, just as my body will. I don’t care enough to want to try anymore. I’ve missed too much and lost too often. When I look in the mirror the oozing flesh and sallow skin that barely contains it all seems not worth saving. If I were a born any other animal, I’d have been drowned at birth. I’m a wrong which has been remiss in it’s correction far to long.


I could call someone to save me but I don’t deserve it. I would ask if you love me but I don’t believe it and should I tell you I love you I’ll know deep in my heart your too polite to refuse it. But I’ll never be important. Important belongs to those who struggle and succeed but I’ve never fought a battle for myself I could win. And I’ve lost myself completely somewhere in this haze of self-hatred. You’ll all forget this ever happened with time.


I’m typing a goodbye which I’ll never be brave enough to go through with. With a wound too shallow to die but just enough to sting. I bandage my wrist with the only bandage within reach. It's one of my niece's and has a fairytale scene on it. Ironic isn’t it? I stopped believing in happily-ever-after a long, long, time ago.