I like how, when I tell people about me having crippling depression, they laugh like its a joke. Like I'm joking. I'm not.

I search my house for the nearest knife, finding a rather large one by my bed.oh yeah, I forgot I left that there!

Nobody notices the cuts. But they notice when I'm not paying attention. They think I'm trouble.'that helps me SO much.' -____-

Tears slipped from my eyes as I slid the knife down my arm, yet I was smiling. Actually, I was laughing. I was fucking joyful.

Its funny how people thought I was joking. I like how concerned they look when they laughed and walked away. Its so fucking funny.

Blood dripped onto my white jeans. ' greeeat. Now my mom is gonna get mad. I'm making a mess, god dammit.'

They didn't care about me. Oh no. They cared about the mess I Always make. I am a mess. A really big mistake that they wish to clean up and get rid of. At least I know how to do that.

I blink hard, trying to see clearly. The tears and me getting dizzy didn't help any. I scolded myself for being so stupid. I didn't cut deep enough. Just enough to be satisfied for the day. I passed out of my bed.

Its funny how they don't notice this as my regular rutine. Tomorrow is a new day. Hopefully the newest, last day. I'll just have to try again tomorrow.