Oh why oh why can't I find my razor to cut pretty patterns on my arms? Maybe, maybe this time, I'll cut my wrists. Just want to die. What's the point in living anymore? I'm a fucking failure. I fail at everything. Smoking like a fucking chimney. Wish I had some vodka. Maybe then I'd be drunk enough to slash deep enough this time. The only thing I'm scared of is the pain and blood. I don't care about death. That's what I want. To die. I'm a useless fucking failure.