Refusing To Heal Part 1

I cut myself again last night. But I also wrote a poem. It's such a dichotomy. I don't know what to do. I want to just exist, to forget that I ever wanted to love, to search for the truth eternally. I don't think it'll work because I don't think I believe that truth escapes love.

I've been having deep conversations with boys recently, and I'm not sure why. I'm worried that I'm trying to do some romantic thing, but really I think I just want to be connected to people. Yes, I can manage to have those long, deep, all night, pour-your-soul-out-on-a-table-and-pity-it conversations without any subtext.

I need someone to love. I could just explode with affection right now. So much that my friends are getting unprompted hugs multiple times a day. What do you do when you go to sleep in a cold, dark room and all the imaginings in the world couldn't distract you?

It's more than self hatred this time. I don't want to hurt myself or die as an escape because I really feel that valuable. No one can see past the descriptors " cutter" or " white " that spring into someones mind upon meeting me. The first one is because everyone knows about my reputation and know my name and they automatically know it's me. And the second one is extremely annoying because I am 100% Puerto Rican. Well, anyway, when the tears do come, be they of blood or saltwater, they will be bittersweet. Because nothing compares to the exactness of being trapped within emotion.

Yes, I cut myself and blood creeps me out. Makes sense, right? I think I only have a problem with blood when it's associated with a loss of control. The fact that I control my bleeding makes cutting all the more attractive to my unorthodox mind. Seriously, if you can control that, what else is there?

I always used to use crying and poetry as a way to cope with my feelings, but lately I've had so much anger built up inside of me that I feel like my life is falling apart, piece by piece. And lately I've felt so empty and so alone for no reason what so ever. I instead will hide my feelings, and use the razor as my therapist.The therapist knows all my problems and worries. It never talks back and it understands my pain. Yet it inflicts as well.

Continued in part 2 because it was too long.