I Am Depressed

I love each day on the edge of self destruction. I haven’t relapsedin a year and a half, my scars are barely visible, and the long vertical scar on my leg above my femoral artery from the time I tried to end it is not very visible, but they are still there, and my body knows the beautiful feeling of that blood leaving the body through a pigmy sized cut. I didn’t think I’d be this close ever again, but after hearing my sister that I basically raised after the divorce tell me I’m useless to her and she will never trust me, that I know nothing about life, then make a suicide and a cutting joke, I just feel absolutely nothing. I’m numb. I am having the temptation of getting my razor and taking it’s Apart to mutilate my body again, my gains are throbbing wanting to have blood released, to feel the pain and watch the red liquid flow from my body. But my thoughts are more than just a few cuts, my thoughts are vivid images of me running a hot bath while everyone sleeps, then sit there for an hour, pull out my razor, cut deep on my wrists and make sure I’m successful this time and end it all. To end the pain of my worldly suffering. To die, to be gone. To get away, because so far my life has been nothing but suffering. The only thing that brings me happiness is the beautiful thought of death, death is happiness for me!