Heart of Ice Die Die Die (blah. / potatoe)

Writing,
depression setting in
but I can't stop.
Halfway through
I stop
and take out my knife.
Two long lines on my right
two long lines on my left
and another short line to match the long one on my left.
And one on my shoulder to top it all off.
And...
I loved it.
Ever second
I was digging that knife into my legs
my heart surged
and puffed out,
... it almost felt, whole again.
Why would anyone deny me that feeling?
Could you?
Even if it only lasts
temporarily?
Sheer happy bliss,
that's what I felt.
You can't imagine,
what it's like for me
to finally feel... whole.
It's amazing and wonderful and...
And I long to go back to that time,
when I don't have to remind myself to breath.
When I don't think
about all the bad things.