04-08-2012, 09:08 AM
I watch the last rays of light fade away and patiently wait for the 'sickness' to sink in. For that burning desire to form, take root, and push harder every night. I wait for that feeling that my world is about to slam me against the wall. That feeling that I'm about to cry until I finally fall asleep. Every night when the house is cold and quiet, but I am still awake I day dream about pulling out my box, opening it and taking out the cloth, blood stained cloth. Unwrapping that cloth and revealing one of my tools. I day dream of picking it up and dragging it across my skin. I want all the rubber bands, hair bands, any type of bands to disappear so I'll be even more tempted to cut. I don't know... I just don't know. What more can I say? I'm sick, my father is afraid of medicine. But I don't blame him because there are many risks for my age.... *Sigh* I just won't to curl up and disappear.