I am what I am, do not judge me
April 5th 2008 09:30
All I ask of this world is not to be judged. It's all I really want. From people in general-all I want is to remain unjudged.
That's why I hide what's on my arms. They aren't pretty, they're just scars. They mean nothing now. All they are is memories of pain now passed. Though some of it remains, will haunt me until the day I die.
Like one night when I felt more alone than I had in a long time... I don't remember or know why... I didn't then, either. All I remember is that my boyfriend at the time was sleeping at his best friend's house. And that I felt more alone than I had in a long time. Since before the blade.
But if you saw me walking down the street, and you saw-though they aren't too visible-the marks on my arm, what would you say? Some of them are new, from just the other day. Some of them are old, the eldest from two months ago. Time passes. Days fade. Life ends.
And here I sit with my smokes and my blades. My closest friends will bring me death in the end, and I hope they do. Because this existence is miserable and pointless.
Yes I promised I'd try to fix him. Yes he promised he'd try to fix me. But there's only one thing that can lead to truly fixing me. And that is something neither of us is sure he can provide.
Love.
I am what I am. I am a girl with inner demons, I am a girl haunted by her past, I am a girl who wishes for death. I am a girl whose heart is cold and black. I am a girl who has taken the blade in her hand to her own wrist and sliced again and again. I am a girl who writes. I am a girl who can barely cry. I am a girl... a girl dying inside.
I am what I am, do not judge me. From you that is all I ask.
That's why I hide what's on my arms. They aren't pretty, they're just scars. They mean nothing now. All they are is memories of pain now passed. Though some of it remains, will haunt me until the day I die.
Like one night when I felt more alone than I had in a long time... I don't remember or know why... I didn't then, either. All I remember is that my boyfriend at the time was sleeping at his best friend's house. And that I felt more alone than I had in a long time. Since before the blade.
But if you saw me walking down the street, and you saw-though they aren't too visible-the marks on my arm, what would you say? Some of them are new, from just the other day. Some of them are old, the eldest from two months ago. Time passes. Days fade. Life ends.
And here I sit with my smokes and my blades. My closest friends will bring me death in the end, and I hope they do. Because this existence is miserable and pointless.
Yes I promised I'd try to fix him. Yes he promised he'd try to fix me. But there's only one thing that can lead to truly fixing me. And that is something neither of us is sure he can provide.
Love.
I am what I am. I am a girl with inner demons, I am a girl haunted by her past, I am a girl who wishes for death. I am a girl whose heart is cold and black. I am a girl who has taken the blade in her hand to her own wrist and sliced again and again. I am a girl who writes. I am a girl who can barely cry. I am a girl... a girl dying inside.
I am what I am, do not judge me. From you that is all I ask.
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