as i sit here, with crimson tears surrounding me, i wonder when will it get better? i wonder, how many more times can i do this before it ends? The crimson tears give comfort, an inner peace, that i thought i had earlier this evening, but no, that was false security, waiting for me to be alone to strike, when i am weakest. Sitting here waiting for tomo, waiting for the meetings to start, for the counselling to start. i have to talk, tell them about the abuse, tell them, what i havent told anyone, about when i was raped at uni. i have to tell them, and not kill myself in the process. why cant the boxes close, why dont the crimson tears help? its the same old me, same old pathetic me, too weak to fight, i should fight but no, i cant, too weak, pathetic, what a waste of space i am. i am sorry for taking up your time