on Wednesday night 7th of february, 2018, at 2:08 am i cut my hair in my sink. The scissors we’re orange but when they cut through my hair they seemed to be dripping with blood, dripping into my sink. white sink with dots of red and hair. So much hair. On 7th of February 2018,  wednesday night at 2.15 am i cried while i held the bleeding scissors and my bleeding hair in my hands. They slipped through my fingers and fell on the white tiles, painting a pretty picture. The tiny patches of skin on my hands where the scarlet hadn’t yet touched, watched in shame. look at the glory of what the blood has done. i took a picture. but there was no blood in the picture. lorde played in the background. please could you be tender, she whispered. and it seemed like my body was crying to my hands, telling them to be tender. it cant hold more. kill yourself already my head said to me. kill yourself already, kill yourself already. break the mirror and stick the largest shard into your stomach. do it with the scissors. bang your head on the tiles till its smashed. swallow rat poison it’s right there in the cabinet, second shelf. nobody to stop you now. drink that drainage acid and do the world a favour.

 

 

on 18th of February i had my first cigarette. left me craving for another. anything to make sure this hell passed faster. look at me sounding like those 12 year olds who claim to be depressed. why am i still alive.

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