Page 337 - Death

I cut myself when you walked out.

I was scared it was too deep and I called a friend in another state.

It's the worst scar I have. But it's ok. I can't feel that part of my leg anymore.

Listen to me now.

Please. Don't raise that knife again, for me.

Please just stop, I did. Think of your little sister or brother.

Your younger cousins or just little kids around you. They look up to you What they see is how "cool" it must be to cut.

My sister did. It took her life. She was 7.

My friends are happy for me, I have no scars on my wrists when I roll up my sleves.

They don't realise I never wear shorts or that I always wear a shirt that covers up my sides when we go swimming.

I didn't lie when I told them I stopped cutting.

I just never told them I started again.

The medication isn't working.

It's not making my depression go away.

It's not helping to control my OCD.

The only thing it's doing is making me feel sick and suicidal.

I realized I'll never love any one as much as I love music.

Music stopped me from cutting for 2 weeks. Music stopped me from killing myself.

Music is the only thing I can depend upon again and again. Today my parents took my iPod away.