I miss the rush of the sharp blade drawing across my skin.. The sick feeling of taking to many meds.... i think I miss the blade more then the OD..... I was looking at my old blade last night wondering if it still had the same relief that it once held for me... The rushing of blood to freshly pierced skin... I even miss the ich of the wound healing. I miss everything about it...

whats the freakin point of this life? I'm not getting anywhere... I ask for help, and get ignored.... my so called "friends" call me when they need someone, yet when I ask, they are all just to busy to come help me out of the mood.... To busy to care about me, yet, god forbid, if I don't rush to their side! I'm tired of it... Tired of being lied to.. Tired of not being as important to others as they are to me.

My blade use to be my best friend.. it was always there for me when I needed that reality check.. The pain that coursed threw my body as it dragged over this part or that part... It sounds amazing right about now, then again, so does just killing myself.....

i'm going to break soon.. I use to pride myself about never having been admitted... But at this point n time, I have a feeling that I will be snapping soon, and my trip will end up a grad feasko....