You promised me you would stop cutting.
That promise lasted about a month.
I told myself I have to be strong and help you through this.
There was no hope.
You wouldn't listen to a fucking word I said.
I got so frustrated with you and my family and I too began to cut.
My depression grew worse.
You told me to stop because you couldn't live without me.
If only you would have listened when I said I cared about you and wanted you
to stop.
I don't know what to do anymore.
You were the only one who I thought could help me.
Yet again I thought wrong.
You always tell me to get over things because I can't change the past.
All I want is for you to be happy.
You say dying will be a relief.
A relief from what may I ask?
If you killed yourself you would cause a lot of pain and sorrow.
I, myself, would commit suicide.
Put the god damn knives away and listen to what I have to say...

 
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