You don’t get it.
You don’t know what it’s like to wake up in the morning with absolutely no will to carry yourself through the day. You dont know what it’s like to read things that make you feel like you’ve been torn to pieces. Don’t tell me I don’t have self control- you don’t even know what self control is. Self control is not touching my razor blade for two consecutive days. Self control is holding back the tears at school. Self control is not having killed mself yet. You don’t get it. Every day you push me further along the edge and one day I will fall. And you will regret it. But it’ll be too late and no one would even care, not even then. I am nothing and your words do not help.
I do not need this right now.
