Worthless.

I want to cut. To grab something sharp and dig it into my arm. No, wait. Never mind.. I don't want that. Scars on my arm can be explained and disguised. I want a pain that will last forever, for everyone to see my shame and identify it easily. I want to be looked down on and shunned, for parents to keep their kids away from this bad influence that might convince their poor innocent child to start burning and cutting themselves. I want them to believe something that isn't true. Because I deserve it.

I hate cutting. I know what it does to me.. I know how bad it hurts. Not just physically, that part is almost liberating in a way. Almost feels good... like a present. A sick, twisted, demented, deserved, horrible, relieving, present. But the emotional and mental parts kill. Almost literally. 

I started cutting for the memory. It was kind of like a tattoo, in a sense. I carved a specific symbol into my right arm. I'm the only one who can still see it. After that, I was angry. Or, I thought I was. Really it was just my past catching up to me in a not-so-wonderful way...blurring my sight of good and evil, right and wrong. I was hurting, but I didn't want to cry. So I cut. For awhile after that it was just when I was angry to the point of no return, the pain calmed me down and buried my emotions for the next outbreak. But... then I started acknowledging a new feeling; sadness. I didn't really think about what I was doing, I just cut. Hardly remembered it the next day. 

Not long after that it became a routine. Numbness till it gets dark, slowly start to feel, then cut. Then go to sleep. Only a few people really knew what I was doing... but even they don't know how bad it got. How deep some of them are. How many times I looked in the mirror with a knife to my carotid artery and knew that just one flick of the wrist could end it all. But... that's all in the past. Death is too easy. 

Now I started on my wrist, like a huge banner proclaiming "This Is A Cutter! A Disgrace To Our Community, A Bratty Good-For-Nothing Teen Who Hates All Rules, A Scared Little Kid Who Wants Attention. Label And Exile, Shun And Shame. She Deserves It." Because I believe it. I hate to cut. I hate when I cut, I hate why I cut, I hate what I cut. And I cant stop. I'm trying so hard, but I keep failing. My last time was supposed to be a blood oath for a friend... but now my last was worthless. Simply Worthless. Just like my scars. Worthless. I'm worthless.

I could have killed myself. I could have been free. But no, death really is too easy. Selfish, too. I deserve worse. I deserve to be condemned to life. I deserve to have to put on a smile and be happy, and to be so high in the clouds that when I fall back down, no one wants to catch me. 

To be thrown back up just so I can fall.

I deserve this, because I am worthless.