¿a dónde se me irán las palabras cuándo algo duele? ¿en dónde se esconden? Mi instinto suicida ha despertado de nuevo... antes de que lo notara, hoy he escrito en mi banca decenas de veces "me quiero morir" ¿por qué no dejo de llorar? ¿cómo es que oculto tan bien este dolor? ¿y de dónde viene? ¿cuánto tiempo le tomará destruirme? Hoy antes de que me diera cuenta me he herido decenas de veces, viendo la sangre correr no lograba entender por qué. y joder... es qué ya no sé que hacer estoy tan desesperada, ¿quién va a venir a atarme para evitar qe me suicide? si yo no me quiero pmatar lo juro... si yo no quiero herirme más... por qué? por qué? no entiendo porqué, estoy a punto de hacerlo Será esto un grito? será esto luz? será esperanza, será desastre, será que alguien escucha en silencio intentando atrapar la última gota? Odio sentirme sola sabiendo que no lo estoy.... qué me pasa? qué me pasa? "estoy bien" sé perfectamente........ que quizá no lo estoy........ y no sé, no sé, no sé no quiero sentirme así, no quiero sentirme así yo quiero vivir sonreír quizá? lo siento, lo siento... yo amo, yo amo.... y seguro, seguro lo lograré... vivir, vivir.... no estoy sola.... no me destrozaré no demasiado Unreal: day´s gone, tears running, what the fuck may i be waiting? Fuck off and fuck it.... let's not talk about it.... we're all dying.....i'll just do it before....

Come break me, come hurt me, come and rip my clothes, rip my skin, and dig my head... i want you to read me, i want you to stab me, lie to me, fight my words, fight my heart... i want you to hold me, i want you to twist me and confuse me, come dance with my dreams, come mess with my sickness... come get me, can you? come catch me, could you? come and yell this truth to my face...would you? would you or would you not, get dirty inside my poisoned mind and mess with it till it's alright... i would.

Hoy fue de esos días en que por fin aceptas que tienes un problema... Comencé con un corte, uno pequeño, lo repasé una, dos, tres veces. Mi muñeca cobró un tono rojo vivo ante el filo de la hoja. "una más, una más, sólo una una más" repetía en mi mente hambrienta de redención, sin pensar otra cosa, hundida en la respiración entrecortada, en la obsesión desnfrenada. Drenar las lágrimas, la culpa y el dolor, que todo se volviera sangre... que ese sufrimiento fuera mi manera de castigarme por valer ten poco, por valer tan poco... por ser idiota, loca, estúpida y deprimente y deprimida. Una, dos... tres, cuatro... la piel está quemando cinco, sis, siete... un para de gotas de sangre "la vena, la vena... una más, una más, más profundo" doce, trece... "ya no, ya no..." Pero ya iniciado, debo terminar, aún quedan penas por pagar veinte, llegué a veinte... vi la muñeca sangrante, vi los brazos marcados, vi las viejas cicatrices repasadas... y sólo podía pensar en cómo ocultaría esas marcas. Me até hilo... y ahora arde, y no sabes cuánto ardo en deseos de arrancarlo y mutilarme por completo.... y... y.... y no sé por qué... por qué? alguién dígame por qué.... no puedo vivir conmigo misma? joder, joder, la puta ira de no poder controlarme mientras corre la sangre, tengo hambre de castigo, hambre de dolor ese dolor físico por un momento borra todo aquello que en mi es imperfecto... con sangre brindemos que por un segundo... SOY MÁS QUE MIS MIEDOS

Have you ever felt nude? heve you ever felt too open... too explored... too well read... too ashamed? Have you ever felt alone knowing you're not? knowing you hurt... knowing you break for no reason at all? Have you ever felt broken inside? like you're not worth it... no near close it... like you're not fixing yourself anymore? Or have you ever felt lik jumping? like dying... like bleeding... like scaping and never ever return? i had... but i decided, no longer... no more... would you like to help me, get over myself?

Trent Reznor, he will explain me for a while: "and oh so sick I am and maybe I don't have a choice and maybe that is all I have and maybe this is a cry for help I do not want this" (y estoy, oh, tan enfermo y quizá no tengo alternativa y quizá eso es todo o que poseo y quizá esto es un grito de ayuda, yo no quiero esto) "I want to know everything I want to be everywhere I want to fuck everyone in the world I want to do something that matters" (quiero saberlo todo, quiero estar en todos lados, quiero joder a todos en el mundo, quiero hacer algo que importe) De qué sirve que viva si nadie me recordará? si no haré nada importante... qué mierda... y yo, que quería ser alguien

I hate myself, sometimes i wish i could scream so high everyone could hear me... if i know that would heal me... why am i so afraid? What the fuck am i waiting? Why so i never say what's wrong? why do i always feel misunderstood? why do i always find a way to lie about me feeling sad or angry? i wish i was normal sometimes... i wish i could yell i wish i wouldn't mind about the others more than i care for myself... sometimes, no mather how much it hurts me... i never hurt somebody else... ever or i'll just feel worse... guilt...... i should be named guilt... i won't hurt... i'll torture me before it (i guess writing here has made me know myself a bit more... those reading, are digging my heart... enjoy i suppose)

I can't fuckin' believe it... am i also somehow passive-aggressive? bipolar, psicotic, chronically depressed, obsessive... now this FUCK IT!!!! For the sake of human evolution... somebody shoot me

Anger's gone for now... i just had a 30 minutes cuts and bruises session... it heals, it makes me relax... it makes me feel ashamed and gulity. Damages: about 18 new scratches, and two bruises Weapons: two needles, a cutter, and a silver strap. Areas: ribs, arms, wrist, fingers New: i learned to suck blood out of my veins... I know it's not the way... but i feel so much better now... hard to explain

sickness, i'm ill, i could hit, i could destroy... i could get a knife through my hand and feel no pain... until i can finally see through. don't scream, don't tell, don't beg, don't ask, don't show, don't break... just hurt yourself... this way... no one else will know... i discovered, the more i know myself, the more i hate myself... i should seriously find some help... before i get caught by feelings... i don't feel normal no longer... i'm scaring myself a bit i wonder... or i'm just pleading... what may i become? i'm sorry i'm selfish... i just don't want to end up... killing myself

I saddly confess... i got myself some new wounds... i just sometimes want to spill blood all over, maybe so i can prove myself human, maybe so i can show pain... drained. I feel wasted... this air i'm breathing, could be used by someone better (blood), i'm not getting it (blood), i'm not enough for you (blood), for me neither (blood) blood, mixed with the hot tears, with de high screams obstructing my throat... the perfect mix for a roll in shitty thoughts... (maybe i decided to live cause deep down, i know i want life, cause there's so many people worth fighting for)