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| "Every day is a battle, every week is a war..." |
They hate you, you know.
Who? Who hates me?
Your "friends". Can't you see?
They all talk about behind your back, and chatter as you leave. I've seen them, I have.
You're lying.
Why would I waste your time with lies? When you're slicing and dicing away, I don't disturb you unless I carry the truth.
Perhaps -
Don't listen to him. He's a fraud; a charlatan and a cheat!
Oh, not you again...
Begone! Can't you see our friend has business to attend to?
He's hurting himself, day by day. Every cut, every attack on his body is only going to grow in intensity until this consumes him, and the control he sought will be swept from under him. Is that what you want?
I only serve his interests alone. Isn't that right?
...
See, he agrees!
He does not. Now, why don't you -
Do what? Go away?
Yes! You cause nothing but misery -
And you create nothing but false hope. Haven't you heard the phrase "let sleeping dogs lie"?
25th November, 21.16pm.
Every day is a constant battle against the voices in my head.
I can only keep them muzzled for so long before they're at it again. I'm just glad they don't interrupt my work.
I'm getting better - the blade cuts deeper, and no blood is produced. I am in control of my faculties.
She twists and slides on my flesh, controlled by the actions of my hand alone.
The fool. Can't he see what he's doing to himself?
He can - it's you who's making it worse.
How? How can I be making it worse?
Simple - by giving him false hope, you've set him up for a very devastating fall. You are the one who will ultimately drive him over the edge - not me.
All I want is to help him.
Don't you think that is my objective? I am simply giving him an avenue for him to let off some steam.
By cutting himself.
Yes.
25th November, 21.23pm.
The blood is pounding in my head, a frenzied drum providing the soundtrack for my mutilation.
Still, I cut, the blade finding its way further in with surprising ease.
I lift and slice, lift and slice, lift and slice, leaving gouges in my wrist - true reminders of what I am capable of.
They all think I'm crazy, I know it. Them and their diatribes, their witty retorts, their mocking laughter; all of that is beyond me now.
I am in control.
Stop this madness, stop the pain!
I can help you, help you find a way out of this rain -
No you can't, go away; you're hurting him no more
Lest you wish for his wrist to become a vision of gore
Why do you do this, feed him false hope?
Lead him astray, hand him a piece of rope
To strangle himself, end his life, hurt his peers?
I would sooner take you down, you and your vile jeers
I can't stand you -
And I can't stand you;
Every day is a battle, every week is a war
The scars are the only thing you seem to adore. The scars are the only thing you seem to adore.
What does it matter? Just let him cut away
Who cares if his life fades to gray?
It affects you, me and everyone he knows
Let you be silenced, let him blossom his prose
I am master of my fate; in control of my life
I bid you both goodnight - let me tend to my knife.
In absence of love and faith and hope
Let the knife fill this hole - let the knife rend my soul!
Source of image: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Good-and-Evil-118973226
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