I pull on a sweater, even though I'm not cold.

Practice my story, the one that I've told

A thousand times, but no one seems to see

That something is wrong; I'm not me.

Going through the motions of everyday life,

No one ever knowing of the ongoing fight.

The war in my head, the voices won't quit.

The ones that say "you're worthless" "why don't you just end it"

The nights seem so long; silence is no longer my friend.

It just makes me think of all the pain that won't end.

I can't stop the thoughts that pour into my head.

The only way I know to save myself is to cut again.

The familiar sensation of the blade upon my skin.

I sometimes wonder why, how, when did this all begin?

Relief washes over me once I've got it done,

Once I've made the cut and let the blood run.

I'm only holding out for the ones who really care:

Emily, Harley, my dear precious Aar-Bear...

I used to be so happy, giddy, carefree.

But many things have changed.

One of them is me.

So I hope you understand when I'm finally gone.

I'm sure you'll be fine, the pain won't last very long.

And I hope you think 'so that's where you are'

When you look up in the sky and see one more shining star.