Razor Friend

Day 30: Possibly the worst friday night ever. Ok, I'm sure I've had worse but this comes pretty close. I don't feel like going into details but because one of my "friends" told her dad about how I was feeling I'm under a freaking sucide watch. Seriously? My dad is staying here and watching me. He wanted to take me to the hospital again, luckily that didn't happen. It's such bull, I hate it. Here's a poem I wrote:

My relationships have lost their essence

pushed some too far,  became too near

to others, can't find the right distance

to keep everyone safe this year

things have become too severe

for me to keep everyone sane.

Say too much, say too little

I say or do the wrong things

I act too insane or crazy

I think I'll start to lie.

"Why yes I'm in my right mind."

Sitting in my room cutting alone

I'm finally in the zone, in control

blobs of blood bubble up, my own.

 It trickles down, slick drops roll.

My lungs inflate, filled with the air

that only comes from sweet pain.

Like a life-saving press to the chest

I'm saved, alive for a short time.

I admire the slim little razor in my hand

thinking how good of a friend it is

"It's never a balancing act with you

you're always there in a crisis."