10 new single-edge razorblades. 1 new knife.
I’ve never used a knife before. It’s red-handled and folds up. Half of the blade is straight and sharp and half is sharper still but with ridges. The tip is long and the whole way home I pressed it into the pad of my thumb.
I don’t want these things. I really don’t. I want them to be gone. I don’t want to cut. I don’t want to be in pain. I hate almost passing out from blood loss. I hate my legs shaking when I stand afterwards. I hate the scars, I hate them. I hate how my skin will always have pink snowflake-patterns all over. I hate disappointing people. I hate the lies. I hate hiding. I hate how raw my skin is and when it is brushed by something how the pain takes my breath away.
breakfast; skipped.
lunch; cereal bar, a bit of homemade pizza, bottle of Gatorade = 570
dinner; 1 cup macaroni bake, ½ cup boiled sliced carrots, a little over 1 cup V8 splash = 640
other; n/a.
i won't let you say goodbye, and i'll be your reason why.
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