27

A number that shouldn't mean anything to me. But now it's taken on a whole new meaning.
Who knew that getting caught smoking would lead me here.
It led me through Depression, anxiety, loneliness, and despair. The new definition of Hell is now February 6th-8th.
Those 3 days were the worst of my life, minus the day I found out about my father's issue.
I went through every stage of Depression in 5 days.
Self-loathing, and sadness.
Numb, nothingness.
Acceptance to what I've done.
Looking forward to the future, when it will be over.
Watching my inner demon come to the surface yet again, making itself known in 2 ways.
I drew a picture.... And it was something I barely remember drawing.
It's something I'm going to burn so I never see it again.
I wish it was as easy as that to get rid of the marks on my leg.
My right upper thigh now has 27 new scars... All from the same 10 minutes.

A brand new razor... I cut it up so it looked like an ordinary razor, but I could use it as my tool. When my deed was done, I shoved it in my drawer, under 2 shirts I never wear anymore.