Listening To Lies When The Truth Is Right In Front Of Her, Indifference Makes Her Believe Them

How am I supposed to start all this? Or finish it? When my own mum sees the cuts on me and can't even see them for what they are? Just, what the fuck...

My mum called my downstairs earlier, and I was only wearing a short sleeved tee-shirt, and she noticed the cuts on my arm, and she asked what they were. I swear my heart rate was going so fast it was dangerous as I babbled off an excuse about something sharp in the shed, scratched myself on a nail or some made up shit like that.

I'd forgotten to slip on a jumper or cover them, and since they were only from last night, I could hardly pass them off as scratches, they were red and scabbed up and so fucking obvious I could scream. I didn't want her to see them, but now, I feel so ridiculous crazy I can hardly stand it.

It is fucked up that I even do it, and I think on some level, I always thought one day my parents would see, understand and help me deal with it, even if I didn't want them to.. but my mum doesn't care enough to look past the most blatant lie I've ever told her.

It feels like a punch in the gut, a knife through my fucking ribs, cause if that's not a sign of indifference towards me, then I hardly know what is. As stated in the title of this journal entry, she listened to me lie with the truth right in front of her, but you know what? She believed the fucking lies, because she just doesn't give a shit. But really, who fucking does anymore?

I know what I am, I know what I'm worth, I know what a lot of people see when they look at where I'm sitting, and that's... nothing. I know that, and now, finally I have it fucking confirmed that my mum feels the same way. That's one question I have answered in my head, which is so full of them I want to scream... but that kind of thing would get me locked away, so I'll stick with the harder option; a smile, cause everybody would rather see a fucking mask than the fucking truth.

I don't want to do this anymore, not now, no more no more no more no more.

Here's fucking irony for you...

I want to be dead, that's what my brain and heart and soul are saying to me, but still my body overrides me when I try to stop breathing. Fuck this, a razor and pills are quicker.