she's afraid of a light in the dark

i used to be a cutter. this just one writing about depression.

she's afraid of a light in the dark...

this blanket of dullness falls around everything in my life coating my existance in non-chalance. The hardest thing i do every day is to get out of bed...all that follows is just a dim echo in the periphial of my mind. For no rational reason i am shrouded in regret and plauged by a cold sadness whose fingers grasp everything in my life. I would love nothing more than to lie still under the covers all day and feel sorry for myself yet bills rent dogs family and the boyfriend all rear their ugly heads reminding me what happened last time i did nothing and lost it all. Constant headaches and clenched heart are my new best friends-always there and loyal to a fault. My blood flows heavy under my translucent skin begging to be freed by a night of wine and a dull knife. But bloody scars on my arms have led to nothing but speculation and urgent whispers of my lose of a will to live. When in reality it's just the opposite-i'm only trying to bleed myself of what i feel is slowly killing me inside.