Dark. Hopeless. Anger. Emotions rage inside of me. Knife. Hatred. Lonely. Confused. Cut. It's taking over. I'm slipping down once more to a place I can't escape. I want to cut. I want all of my emotions to pour out of me as the blood rolls down my arm. Blade. I'm trapped by emotions. If I move now, my world will shatter around me; but hasn't it already? My rational thoughts are slipping. All I can see is the edge of the knife. Why am I even resisting? Scars. I know what happens after. Regret. Self loathing. Deeper in the whole I go. Does anyone know I'm lost? No. I never let it show. They will never find me. Never see how low I've truly gotten. For them to be able to see means they've broken my defenses. And that just can't happen. I get up. Put the mask back on. Keep the insanity tamed beneath a face no one can see through.
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