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My parents are too protective. I don't get near ANYTHING with razors. not even to shave! It's like they KNOW that I'd cut myself....

I feel like I'm drowning

Reality is so far away. Like a gossamer thread...I'm afraid to touch it, for fear it'll break. Maybe for fear I'll break.

I don't know how to connect with anyone. I don't have anyone to connect to.

I'm looking through the water. Reality is foggy and disoriented. They stare at my tank and gawk and point and laugh. I cry, but they can't tell because of the water. I watch detachedly as some of them speak to me. somebody outside of the tank answers for me. I watch as he walks away.
Some people try to throw me ropes. Sometimes they're too short, or have metal in them.
some of them have strings attached.
I fear that when the right rope comes along, I won't have the courage to grab it.
I think I just threw it out.

I don't know how. It was gradual. first I had no idea what i was saying about myself...how I wanted to die....

Now I find myself smiling as I imagine the bed with beautiful knives all over it. I imagine myself lying down, gasping for a moment at the pain, then dying.

Sometimes I think of going to get one of my mom's kitchen knives, and bringing it to my throat. 'one little cut,' I think... 'That's all you need'

I'll probabally be dead by winter. Hypothermia and blood loss, they say, is like going to sleep.
Sometimes, I think I don't want to wake up.

hey
if you've found this account, then you're nosing around.

back off. this is my secret little place, okay?! PRIVATE!!!!! Nunya biz!!!!!!

if you know me, then I'm sorry that you've found this. and if I end up in an asylium....
That's a place for whack-jobs. like me.

...if I end up as a runaway, or something else...then read this. confide only in those closest to you that you've found this. because....

Well, I'm dying from the inside.