Hello, I'm your worst nightmare. I'm misery, I'm sorrow and I'm sadness. I'm this desire in your head to slice one divide of your body open as soon as you see a knife, scissors or blade. Which part is next? Your arms again? Your stomach or tighs? Maybe your back? Come on, I know you want me to do such awful things with your skin, I did it so many times before. I'm the one who brings you to hate everything you are, were and will be, until you drown in self-hate. I'm stuck inside your head, I'm that silent vioce that tells you to kill yourself. To be honest, I really wouldn't care if you die one day, but as long as you don't, I'd like to watch with pleasure the way you despair more and more. How you fight each day against me. How you try to fix something that isn't really broken. I'm the one who's making you change nothing, except the number of the scars on your skin. Wouldn't you like to see the red ones again? I'm that fucked up self-critical and self-destructive girl that took the wrong way and never found the right road back. But most importantly: I'm you.