Written, again, when I was sixteen. The topic of depression, despair, and self-injury seemed to be rampant in that journal volume.
Terribly confused by all that she hears
Suddenly confronted by all of her fears
Then she saw
Her every flaw
Threw herself to the bed and shed tears.
She cried over the person she could have been
The girl who existed before she met him,
Before she was rejected
Before she went wayward and fell into sin.
The world to her was so misleading
Desperate, confused, she scrapes her arm bleeding
All she aspires to
Is to fill her desires to
Cease her small, jealous heart's beating.
So tired and lonely, joked at and jaded,
She picked up the blade and destroyed who she hated
But aside from the pain
Inside she's the same
Her masochism fell flat and deflated.
"My arms and my heart. My God, I am aching!
I want to real this life I've been faking
This twisted mentality
Doesn't work out for me
Please help me to clean up this mess I've been making!
Please help this self-hatred to loose its appeal
And take away all this depression I feel
I give my life, my all to You
Knowing that You'll make me new
Brush me under Your wing and help me to heal."