Jumbledmess.

I told you my thoughts weren't making sense.
I told you, too.
And they aren't. I can't set them straight so I ignore all of them.
It's safest that way, I think. For me. For you. For them.

Just like it's safer to lie; despite however much I lose in the process. Me? I'm last on the list of importance, everything/everyone is ahead of me.

So I lie for you, I lie for her, I lie for him. It's easier. The fake praising I receive doesn't hurt, they get to be proud of me and I get to continue with life, my way.

Sometimes, I don't think I have a problem at all. No, it's not bad that I constantly visualize cutting up my arm and bleeding out. No, it's not twisted how often I wish I could go cut. No, I don't plan out how I can steal the Red Devil away for a little while. No, I don't have a problem. Right?

I'm not in need of any serious help. I'll be a good little girl and take my medication, go to my appointments. I'll get her sidetracked so we'll talk about school for a little while until I have to go again. She wasn't happy when I shut down and didn't talk, so I'll just keep saying things that make her happy.

These words I'm writing aren't safe. They're not logical and I'm an idiot. I make no sense, there is no reason for me to continue and I. Am. An. Idiot. I fucked up once and it sent me here. Stuck and lost and hurting people.