(Insert Greeting Here)

I slit my wrists. Again.

His name is now carved into my arm. A scar in my flesh is a monument to him.

I love him. I hate him. I want to fall into his arms and have him tell me everything is okay. I want to kill him. I want to feel his arms tightly around me. I want him to be hated so he knows the pain he caused me. I want to feel his manliness against me again. I want to rip his manliness off and staple them to his forehead. I want him to be happy. I want him the pain I feel every minute of everyday.

I want him to have a great life; regardless of my own.