you throw up what you eat. you slit your wrists. your trying so hard for attention, not to mention, your a misfit bulemic bitch. yeah right. your bullshit. your so fake in this realm, so cast a spell to kill yourself. if your drowning in such sorrow, i have a gun you can borrow. it's loaded. safety's off. point it at your head. have fun being dead. i'm sick of hearing "it's killing me inside" you poor little thing. your a sad little girl with a sad little life. all you have left are the tears that you cry. mommy and daddy are fighting again. everytime you hear them yell, that's another slit for yourself. if your life is so horrible with your wonderful boyfriend and parents who spoil you, then straighten that red line your drawing on your wrist make sure it's up and down and not from side to side. you don't have the courage to kill you but you've got this "gothic" illusion. your such a non-conformist, just like all the rest. you listen to thier music and all you wear is black. you like to pretend your an individualist but your not. you've conformed into a non-conformist, so in reality, that's what you are. your hair isn't wild enough for you, and you want to dye it blue. your not really "gothic" but you've got nothing to do. i'm tired of your act and i'm sick of your play. all you are is bullshit and i see it everyday. you talk about how great your boyfriend is, then you slit your wrists. you say he hurt your feelings. bullshit that's not it. you slit your wrists for show. your so fake so just go. you want someone to notice you and feel so sorry too. if your life is that bad, then find somewhere high, step off the edge as the nuce holds you tight. all you have to do is hang there and die, but you don't have the courage. and i hate to mention but once more all your in it for is attention.