I don’t even know what to write.
I am Jack’s wasted life.
I keepglancing at my wrists, wanting to dig deeper into myself, wanting to bleed out my emotions, my depression.
I purged my food today. I didn’t feel that I deserved to take care of myslf. I’m weak and exhausted. My body is sick and soggy with sadness.
He came home today. We talked for a while. Nothing has changed. He saw the welts on my legs and arms so he decided to stay here and watch me- both of us know I’ll only hurt myself more if left alone.
I think that the walls are blu and gray, only he say’s differently. I don’t even know why I’m reaching out right now. maybe i;m better off sleeping it off.
work tomorrow. Monday, monday, monday