I’m in an unbelievable amount of mental pain today. It’s day two of staying home from school because I’m so fucking depressed that I don’t know what to do with myself.
Definitely getting rid of this blog, I’d like to say more but all of you school friends that are on here… well you don’t need to know about my personal life anymore. It’s personal, and I should keep it all confined to a simple diary or my own mind.

I fucked up majority again. I just someone, I ruined their life and I can’t do that anymore. Oh please… please give me strength.

How beautiful, that mark on my neck where you held me tight with your hand and let me choke on my breath. It’s red, purple, and there’s white marks where your fingers stretched out against my skin. Asphyxiated, I can hardly moan through your grip and when I do it comes out as a strained gurgle.

“This isn’t going to end well,” you said to me in the car, with that little smile. “Well as in non-violently.”

“I know,” I respond, cupping my neck with my hand and smiling to myself.

I don’t want it, did you know? I don’t want to be bruised and battered, in fact I feel as if my body should be treated gently. This is my new form of self harm — self degradation, BDSM, bite marks, blood. Self conscious. 

You looked at me again, when I lay my head on your chest and fiddled to get my pants fully back on. “Are you okay?” you ask, and I blink in reply. Blink. Blink. Yes. No? Maybe. 

On my knees I slip my lips over the head and deep throat as far, farther, farther, far as I can stand. My other hand pumps, and your body goes rigid under me as I rake my nails down your side. Blood? Blood. That’s what I want to see from you. I want to hurt you, I want to be hurt. 

No I don’t. No I don’t. Being hurt is not at all what I want. I want you to caress my cheek but I don’t want you at all. I don’t want anyone but you understand, don’t you? Don’t you? You understand. So I keep coming back. 

It’s lovely how you smile at me in that way when I look up at you to ask if I’m okay at this. I am, aren’t I? I pull, suck, blow, swirl, all the right things. I’m not using teeth, I promise, but I saw you flinch when just for a second my lip slipped. Ha. Your writhing is cute, how you tell me to angle your dick up so I don’t have to swallow and the cum drips onto your stomach. 

You drop me at home. Smile. I say goodbye. I touch my breasts, and they’re tender and my brain swirls. This isn’t my body you touched. 

I feel so sick to my stomach. Everything I see, is on the brink of death. Maybe, maybe, maybe, that’s my worst fear. Ha. I’ve figured it out. I fear death so much that I crave to fall into its arms and sleep. Ha. Ha. It makes sense to me now, death is what I cannot understand and so as per the human condition I fear it. Fear. What an interesting feeling.

I hit a bird in my car, I was just driving along and suddenly a beautiful brown body swooped down and hit headfirst into my bumper. It shocked me, how fast life could be taken. Ha. Ha. Mine could be taken just as fast, and it will be, I know it. Every second I’m living in fear, and I know I must change that mindset but I’m so scared. So scared. This is the only way I know how to live.

It’s almost laughable, almost. Just almost. I’ve died already, because I’ve stopped living. Ha. Haha. Ha.

Sometimes I just like to lay on white sheets naked and let my hands roam my body. I want to memorize every crease and crevice on my body, so I know how it feels to be young and alive. Everything is so soft, or bumpy, or rough where the hair has been shaved and is starting to grow back. My body doesn’t feel like it belongs to me, but I like the touch of it all the same.