I hate this job. I have to get the hell out of here before it kills me! Sitting in that damned chair being constantly told how many fucking mistakes I make is just too much! I injure almost daily, usually by picking or scratching at my wrists or backs of my hands. I'm becoming a wreck.
Every one has a breaking point and I am almost at mine. This place is beyond my breaking point. So instead of breaking I bend as far as I can using a blade to do it. All I want to do tonight is cut, to calm my brain. I fake the smile for my parents so they don't see how bad I'm doing. Of course they don't know I'm a cutter anyway so I guess it doesn't matter.
Therapy on Tuesday and I don't know how to say the things I think I need to. Is it all a waste or is the road just really slow?
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