from the bottom of my empty heart

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I tried to hurt myself again today.

I couldn't.

I don't understand.

Why is that so hard?

Just pick up the blade.

Put it to my skin.

Watch as a small drip of crimson dribbles out,

and ignore the pain.

Why is it so hard?

It's because I'm a coward.

A stupid fucking coward.

I can't say it enough times-

I'm a coward.

And if I do nothing all day,

why does it matter if I stay or if I go?

Because I'm touching the hearts of people,

people I've never even met?

That's bullshit.

I might as well already be gone,


I might even already be dead.

That's how it feels.

My limbs are heavy and my spirit is too.

I can't keep my head up straight,

and I can't face the sky.

That's how I imagine it's like.

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