purplepancakes5

The first time I made the cut, I was filled with pain, suffering, agony, grief, and longing. I didn't do it because of my pain, I did it because of his. I wanted to know what he felt. I couldn't imagine that it helped. But maybe I had to do it myself to understand. The first time I picked up the knife, tears ran down my face. The first time I felt the blade slide across my wrist, I took a step into his world. The first time I watched the blood drip, all I could think of was him.