I guess I'm in crisis... I'm fucked. I'm in a different country, where I only kinda know two people, and I have crashed. Completely. I don't know what to write. I don't even know why I'm writing, there is nothing anyone can do. I need to cut, but I know when I start I won't be able to stop. The bottom line is that I need to die. Being home wouldn't change anything I don't think, except I would have my own space, and not feel guilty about cutting or attempting. But guilt can only help me resist for so long, and it is wearing thin. So, so thin. What the fuck does it matter? What the fuck do I matter? It's 12.30am, I'm in an unfamiliar environment, so I can't go for a walk. When I was younger, people promised me it would get better. Those people lied. It doesn't. It never will. Because of me. I'm such a fuck up, I'm a horrible, horrible person. My heart is pounding, my hands are shaking and I need this to be over. People treat me like shit because that is what I deserve, but I can't handle it. I've brought this on myself, just like a brought everything else on myself, and I swear I am not prepared to do this anymore. Who the fuck would give a shit if I died. People say they would, but it's bullshit. Just like everything else. I don't know what to do. All I do know is that I can't cope with me anymore. I want out. It's too much, time and again. It's game over.