Blood

I used to cut myself on the bottoms of my feet so no one could see and every time I took a step I could feel the pain.

I was in second grade. I told my best friend at the time in Boy Scouts who noticed them. He said it wasn’t right. I thought it was perfectly normal. I hate this life. This rotten materialistic capitalist life. I hate that I have to drink and smoke and cut in order to release. I try not too. But I do. That’s all.

At least I didn’t drown my sorrows and fuck someone I had no feelings toward to tonight. I don’t feel capable anyways.