I love the feeling of cutting.
The razor blade slides across your skin, the blood comes, your heart beats faster. And then it's calm. That supreme calm that comes when you release the blood from your disgusting skin, when it drips down your leg or arm and ...
It's that calm feeling that I seek, the quiet desperation, the hit, the rush, the risk
The control.
I decide how deep to cut. I choose how much to bleed.
It's my choice, It's me.
I don't even know any more.
My life is... perfect?
What more could a girl want?
Yet I feel like this.
It just doesn't make sense.
Fat Fat Fat Fat Fat Fat Fat Fat Fat Fat Fat Fat Fat Fat
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