I don’t want to tell anyone else. no one cares, so it virtually doesn’t even matter. not even to me. hell, I’ve been done with everything for such a long time now that I can’t even remember what it felt like to fully enjoy life. I can’t believe the cutting started again though… it had been a year. a long, clean year. and I clung to someone else’s sob story. I realized it could get much worse than I had it. I clung to that with all of my might. and then.. I was set off. faster and stronger than a bottle rocket. I’m addicted now, and I’m afraid I don’t even care/wish to stop. I’m done with the pity; I’m done with those who pretend to understand my life. nice try but you’ll never get it. you’ll never know why it feels so good. you’ll never know why it’s all I have left. and you’ll never understand how awful it is to realize that what set you off in the first place isn’t even relevant anymore, yet the cutting continues. damn, it’s bad. but so good. so so good. sadly though… it’s not even enough anymore. I see my eyes and heart yearning for the freedom that only weed can give you. I haven’t let myself go to that as an answer yet, but when/if it happens… that’ll be just another chapter in this damned story. this damned story in which I see no end, no light, no freedom from myself. but I’ll get back to you if that ever changes. for now, I just need somewhere to put this. all of it. hey, maybe I’ll look back on it someday and be able to remember why I never want to begin again. this has some purpose, whether I know what it is right now or not.