Deep Thoughts: Memories

why is it so hard for me to do what i really wanna do?

fear i guess. fear of consequences.

it was so much easier when i was a teenager. i remember i never thought about consequences then. i just did what i wanted. didn't succeed. but i gave it some good tries.

now i'm afraid to even try. afraid of failing and the consequences which would inevitably follow.

the only thing more pathetic than someone who tries to and can't manage to kill themselves is someone who let's themselves get so old and wussy that they're afraid to even try anymore.

i'm not dead. but i'm as near as anyone can be.

i was watching this movie 'crime and punishment in suburbia' and the girl was jabbing this pencil into her arm cuz her alcoholic dad was arguing on the phone with her mother who'd left her to be with her bartender boyfriend and all of a sudden it all came rushing back.

back in freshman year of highschool i was really fucked up. i think i may have started the cutting trend. cuz i took a compass. the kind you use to make a circle, and i scratched the words kill me into my right arm.

damn if that didn't freak everyone out. i believe there was also a pentagram to accompany the words. crazy teenagers with their devil music.

i didn't cut myself after that ever again until the night in the motel when i tried to slit my wrists. it was much harder than i thought it would be.

i knew to go down the street and not across, but dang i was sober and it hurt.

i did try though. a lot. this vein. that vein. they looked so close. but i just couldn't reach them. i left a little blood behind when i left the motel and started my shameful walk home.

i guess you're sposed to do it in a warm soothing bath. but i didn't wanna get naked and lay in the icky motel tub. truth is i didn't, couldn't stand the thought of my body being found naked. for reasons i will not reveal.

a few days later i started work at the 7-11 across the street. bloody scabs and all. reaching for someone's pack of marlboro's would always reveal them even though i'd wear long sleeves.

no one ever said anything. but i could see the shock and fear on their faces when they'd catch a glimpse.

there's only one thing worse than wanting to die.

seeing someone who does.


  1. I think I was in 7th grade when I took part in my first skin carving. I took an exacto knife and on my left thigh carved the words: I SUCK.

    Several years later, when I was about 22 or 23, I, after being severely frustrated with my boyfriend and his unability to understand my mind, grabbed a glass ashtray, smashed it on the wood floor, and drug it straight down my left wrist. My boyfriends eyes nearly burst out of his skull as he witnessed my behavior. I now possess a 4 inch scar.

    Oh, to be young again.


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