I thought that I was getting better but tonight I hit an all time low.

It’s been almost a week since that dumb kitchen scissors etched red words onto my stomach. Almost an entire week.

I’ve been eating properly now. I’ve sort of let myself start to recover from my miniature burst of depression and anorexia.

And then tonight was too much for me. This week has been hell.

Start me off with a weekend of a dry, boring night out paired with the murder of someone I used to know, by his own brother.

Let’s move on to Monday where I was utterly obliterated by a test, a geography test, of all subjects.

Let’s fill the rest of Monday and Tuesday with constant bothering from a friend about going out that weekend and another friend’s boy drama.

I take Wednesday off because, guess what, on top of it all, I’m fucking sick.

On Wednesday, I miss a maths test (which will later kill me) and a debate against the boys school which a lot of people came to watch.

Thursday, the maths test gets me right off the bat. Oh, not to mention the English comprehension I’m about to fail. That was all still alright though. Work, I can handle.

I can also handle staying until nine o’clock at school even though I have a technology test which I have no notes for and an English essay due tomorrow.

No, but after all this, this horrible bloody week, I get my dad. And before him, my mom. My mom, who can see I am starving and tired from a long day at school, who decided to have a conversation about how greedy our family is.

Then I have my dad. My dad, who can see that I am soo freaking tired and obviously moody, decides to ruin all my weekend plans (which are not even for me, but so that my friend can meet up with her stupid boyfriend who goes to University in another province) by forcing me to go with to my brother’s open day at that stupid boys school I mentioned earlier.

I don’t even need to go.

That was it. The feeling in my stomach had me rushing to the bathroom where I proceeded to insert a finger down my throat and puke all that freaking mince out.

I guess this way I can see how greedy I am.

I watch the food swirl down the toilet in a mushy, disgusting lump.

The tears won’t stop falling and the voices in my head are screaming. They sound like iron blades scraping against mountains. All these noises trapped inside my head. I’m so tense.

And the worst fucking part? No one even noticed. My dad greeted me casually. I’m pretty sure you could hear my retching from a mile away. Or see my puffy eyes. Or hear my scratchy voice. Literally anything.

But no. Clearly no one cares enough.

I want to faint.

I want to disappear… forever.


I need to see blood.

I need to feel that sting.
These paper cuts will release me

I don’t know what I would do without them.

I can’t keep this up much longer.


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