Not sure how to unscramble. At the moment my mind is racing, not just like open road highway 90 no cops around, or you hope there aren't any, it's more like autobahn speeds.
I think about every imperfection. I ruin everything. I am pathetic and will go nowhere in life. I am broken. Like shattered into pieces then stomped on several times.
I think about the past. The past way I'd fix these thoughts. I automatically have evaluated how many blades are around me and just in case what I could use if I couldn't get to one. How I want just a tiny knick, that's all, not a full on slice, but a little release. A release like when you make a tiny hole in a blown up balloon, the air slowly comes out until it's mostly empty.
I think about dying. How it's an easy way out of everything and sometimes easy is just the best way to go. But then I think of you. I think of the people in my life. How hard it'd be for my family. But sometimes I have to think of myself. They'll all get over it, why do I need to suffer to save others feelings. I want to die. But I laugh at myself (internally, I'm not that crazy right now) because yeah, I want it, but right now it's just a thought. Right now I wouldn't kill myself, thought not action.
But wait maybe the only thing between the thought and the action is simply I have a plan, but haven't decided on the place specifically. I suppose that's important, being found once you're gone.
There's two of me.
There's two of pretty much all cutters, as well as other people, but its different for us. That one part that is (we'll say dark) and the other side that's good. It's a day to day battle. Not cutting is simply what side of me, good or dark, has control of my hands. Having a total meltdown on the side of the road when I broke my car and my dad needs to come save me and I miss picking up evan and....you get the idea. The darkness that tells me I ruin everything, it's all my fault (it being everything) is what tells me to start sobbing. It also tells my hands to start cutting because I deserve nothing but blood. If the good were in charge I'd have kept my composure in said hypothetical situation. That battle that cutters face every second of everyday is what makes the decision to let go and die so much easier than it should be.
I guess what I'm trying to get at here is...well, I'm not sure. Mostly just started writing and didn't have a Care where it led. So... Here was my bipolar scrambled brain.
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