So, a bit after I got diagnose with my depression, I got overwhelmed with the voices. They were constantly fucking screaming at me. End it all! They said. Just give up. No one loves you, no one would care. You're the most useless piece of shit anyone will ever know! It was just constant. Day by day, night by night. This repeated. Over and over and over again. Until, I found my best friend. The shiny piece of metal that would shut them up for a few days. If I cut deep enough, it'd shut them up for a week or two. It also brought major relief. For a minute. Then I had to find a way to hide them. 

Anyways,  I started with my legs. Just going fucking crazy. I'd slice them up so bad, that if anyone found out, or saw, I'd just say my cat did it. They were all down my legs. Starting from my knees, all the way down to my ankles. At one point, I even carved on my ankle 'NOT ENOUGH'. If you could see the all the white lines littering my body, you'd be so shocked. Do I regret it? Nope. Will I in the future? Who knows. Only Geesus and My God, Andy Biersack, can decide upon that. 

Well, back to the topic. I then moved onto my arm. I say arm, because I haven't cut my left arm. Yet. Anyways, I would just let it all out on my arm. Slice after slice after slice. Each cut deeper than the last. I went all the way up to my shoulder. It left white lines down my arm, but I was okay with that. I've always loved my scars. (I know how fucked up that sounds, but it's true) It's the only thing that reminded me that I made myself "happy" for just a minute. 

Then came the hips and stomach, but I'm gonna save that for the next chapter, because it's 2 am, and I'm fucking exhausted, yet I can't sleep. 

Woooh