I feel so...tired. Lately I've been nothing but tired. Maybe I can stop being depressed. Highly unlikely though. I wrote another poem today no its not about ♥Dean♥ this time. "Controlling every move" You're inside of my mind, Controlling me, My skin is tore and bloody, I try to gain control, But you have me there, At your will as I start to cry, I'm starting to give up, Everything I had is gone, I will no longer feel, I can't be who I was, You make me take that razor again, I place it to my skin, And cut one last time. Maybe its not that extreme but I do feel that way. Maybe its just a poem that doesn't mean anything. It does mean a lot to me though. I write from my heart and mind. I can't help all of my poems have something to do with death, suicide, blood, or cuts. Oh well. Even my happy stuff is sad. Oh well. It seems like I need help with everything I do now. Daddy knows about the cuts he just didn't tell me. I guess I really have to quit now since nothing seems to help me anymore. I just cut and laugh at the blood. Drink it up that maybe I will live forever... But now the cuts are nothing to me. I want it back like it was where I was crazy and very private about everything. Back at my 18th entry called "And this is how I feel". Back when I was crazy... And nothing really mattered to me. Just me with my cig and my bed all day. I felt so alone and thats what I was. In my room all alone. I want that loneliness back. Oh well...--