I want to sit on the bathroom floor with a fistful of razors, slashing open my arm, piece by piece. I want to watch the blood pump out and not give a care about the mess. I want that light-headed, nauseated feeling I get when I lose a lot of blood. I want the aches and pains of the wounds to accompany in the days after. I deserve this.
(Source: flawedinsomniac, via screaming-scars)
