Know that, as I write this, know that I am crying

"I feel dead inside. I feel sick. I have been depressed on and off for a good while now, close to a few months, around four, three and a half. I've been constantly depressed for nearing on a week now. I feel so horribly so as to want to cause bodily harm. In this past five days I have wanted to kill. I have wanted to maim. I have wanted to hurt. I have wanted to burn. I have wanted to purge: this includes my core. I want to purge my self-loathing. I want to purge my self-hate. It's made me want to kill myself. It's made me cry to sleep.

I forget about this all by day, becoming the happiest person around, yet in my eyes you can see it clinging there, a darkness: a cancer that rages about my body killing me from the inside.

It hurts, as many know. It feels like a scorpion, black as coal, pinching and stinging at the base of my spine, whilst it's children run the length of my back and poison my brain.

I drown this all out with so many excesses: books, sex, food, vdeo games, broadcast television, being near friends. I live a life of excess by day, for I know it won't matter. I am not alive during the day. I am a child of the night, of soft winds and the gentle carress of the moon's guiding light. Yet, when I am alive, I feel dead. It makes me sick.

I am sick, also, because I feel myself loosing control. I feel my grip slipping: I feel myself becoming the homicidal, sadistic maniac I know to be within me.

Know that, as I write this, know that I am crying. I am lonely. I feel nothing but bitterness and the cries of my innards being shredded by these daemons inside of me. Know that, as I write this, it's all starting to fade..."

Source: http://www.teenhut.net/depression-self-harm-suicide/84556-so-cold.html