On Friendship:

I've noticed that when it comes to friends, I tend to make bad choices. I cling to people that hurt me instead of the people that are good for me. I make myself depend on people that consistently put me down, instead of the people that build me up. And I'm trying to change that.

I've also noticed that when I think about why I'm friends with someone, I very rarely think of present events. I remember when times were the best, instead of what they're like now. With Alexa, I always thought of the summer before Junior year, when we'd spend every day just me, her, and Sara. With Ruth, I think about 7th grade and the summer before 8th grade. With Madi, I think about when we started to write Eternity Will Never Be Enough together.

The thing is, that while those times were good and they were a great basis of a friendship, that's not what I should be focused on. I should be focused on the now, why they're my friend now. And with certain friends, I've realized that what used to be isn't good enough anymore.

But I've also noticed that with Jessica, I don't think like that. Sure, last year and this summer were one of the best of my life, but she didn't just make me happy then. She continues to make me happy every day. Every day, she's there for me and builds me up. There are no expectations in this friendship. I don't have to write a certain way, or do drugs, or listen to a certain type of music to be her friend. I just am.

And that's what I like right now.

Again:

You've done this before.

You remind yourself this over and over as your hands grip at your sheets, as though those sheets are the only thing holding you down. And in a sense, they are. Because if it wasn't for those sheets and the way that your hands are intricately wrapped up in them, you're sure you'd be scrambling through your belongings, trying to find something else.

Blades are nothing new to you, in fact, they're anything but that. You remember the way they feel fondly, as though they're an old friend that you've simply lost touch with. But as those thoughts creep into your brain again - hurt yourself, hurt yourself, hurtyourself, hurtyour.. - you twist your hands further into the sheets, as though wrapping them into an invisible shield. In there, you can't reach for the blades. In there, you can forget about the precise way you can use something heavy to break open a razor, and how delicately, you can escape cuts on your fingertips - those always seemed to hurt more - and then you're presented with something wonderful, something harmful.

Later, of course, probably when you calm down, you'll feel okay. You'll realize exactly how irrational these thoughts are, but now, you can't. Now, all you want is pain. Physical pain, that is. You're in enough pain, the feeling in your chest that takes away your breath and the feeling in your head harmonizes to put you in the worst pain that you can imagine. But you want something different, something that actually exists. Something you can see.

But you won't. Maybe it's the knowledge of how you'll disappoint everyone that stops you. Or maybe it's that you know you're not good at keeping secrets anymore. Or maybe it's that you know that doing it - just once. You can escape the pain in your chest just this once... - will always lead to a downfall. Or maybe, it's that marking on your wrist, the tattoo you got for beating this that stops you. But whatever it is, you don't.

And you're right, you've done this before. You've fallen and picked yourself back up more times than you remember, and you'll do it again. And that's what's playing through your head as you lay your head in the tear-soaked pillow and let your brain capture you into a deep, deep sleep.