I’m at it again...tracing shapes on my skin with my blood...My blade is caked with blood from my previous cookie cutter moments...I am ashamed to be a human cookie cutter but over the years with no real friends...since I was ten...This is the only way I could release my pain...My family won’t bother...I was probably like a wild flower which grows by itself...neglected...I know my thoughts are not healthy...I know this even though no one has actually said it out loud...I have no way to end my pain...I heard that a suicide occurs every forty seconds....The world is such a cold and dreary unloved place...Ever since I can remember no one has told me out loud they love me...I probably think that I’m so worthless...I want to kill myself but I am afraid of it...so I’m a human cookie cutter...not a person...only a cookie cutter with no feelings...Am I really just a stone with no feelings?
