Cuts, Tears and Heartbreaks

I cut my skin, and shead the tears and my heart keeps getting broken. That's my life in a nutshell.

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I can't redo anything, just think about how I could do it, and how I would have done things differently. I hate myself, and people think that I don't. They think that I don't feel anything, well that's true. With the exception of feeling the stinging of blood trickling from my body, tears leaking from my eyes and the corruption I have inflicted on my heart. Why do I always find myself in the same place? Begging for someone to forgive me, or for them to love me. I cannot understand why people see me as they do. I only seem angry, mad and bad cause that's how they treat me. I try, I try so hard to change. But no-one will give me a chance to show my true colours, just to show the black paint they have coated me in. The colour of abandonment, depression, and maybe even pain.

 

I dare to show myself, the true me. Because people would be scared that I'm pretending to be something I'm not, when I'm not. I hate that fact. I cannot find anything positive that they have assigned me. Maybe that I'm good at annoying me? I couldn't really care, not anymore. I am not going to be scared of them, they don't own me. No-one could ever own me, no-one could ever tame this animal I have become. I'm caged behind my own bars, and I can't break out. I keep pounding my fists, but I know it won't do anything. But now I am used to the pain, the sight of blood is a comfort. It reminds me that things could be even worse. But I still shed the blood from my own skin, cause it's a soothing sensation to me.

 

Could it be that I haven't felt anything so I replace the empty void with pain? That's how it seems anyway, and that's the only solution I can find, or think of. I have learnt to stand on my own two feet, not to lean on anyone else. Only two thing come from that, either they push me over and I get hurt. Or they move on, and I still get hurt. Every situation of social interest I put myself in always seems to end the same way. I get hurt. Whether or not it was my fault. Granted, on the occasion, it is my fault. And I hate the fact that I cannot apologise, but I cannot recognise why I cannot. Is it pride? Prejudice? I don't know. I cannot even understand my own mind. But I never try to, cause I know that I will never be able to. One moment I can be amazingly happy, and the next I could be in tears. But that isn't my own infliction, it's just remembrance.

 

Remembering what people say or do can set me off. It's like I can't even control myself, and someone else has the remote, pushing all my buttons, like an controlling child. Blissfully unaware what effect it is having. But obviously, in this situation, they do not know what it is doing. They care about themselves, and maybe on the rare occasion about someone else. But I highly doubt that. Even if they do something for someone else, it will always rebound and benefit them in some way. I am not going to let someone do that to me again, not again. I have been used, abandoned and thrown away like crap too many times. I've had enough.

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