(A/N): Another piece of angst. Sorry that the nicer, more drama and storyline-ish pieces aren't flowing. Depression for that. But yay for... whatever this is. Sorry if you don't like things talking about cutting and all that. If you don't like it, be warned, this is pretty much all about that stuff. Thoughts I had a couple of weeks ago that I added onto and edited and moved a little to make it Kurt. The shower scene was real.

Disclaimer: Still no. Nopety nope nope nope. Deal with it.

I went too deep tonight. I felt too deep. I thought too deep. I cut too deep too. I hate blood - it's a physical reminder of what I'm doing to myself. I hate blood, and I love to hate drawing it.

Everyone says that I'm selfish. That I'm spoiled. That I only do things that I like to. Well… I like to prove them wrong. I hate myself every time the blade crosses the skin. I hate hating myself. Is that proof enough for them?

Of course, no one knows about it. No one knows that I cry myself to sleep every night, or that I hate myself so much. I'm so trapped in my life, and in being me.

I hate thinking. About those idiots who make my life hell. About how much I miss her. About how much I wish I weren't me.

I hate feeling. I can't remember ever feeling good. I only know sadness. I only know heartbreak. I only know pain. I only know my own life.

I hate it all. I hate you too. You're just sitting here, reading for enjoyement. I hope this entertains you. You little sadist. Yeah, my life sucks, pick on the fucking homo, just like everyone else.

A lot of people tell me that maybe not everyone feels that way about me… but I'm not stupid. I'm different. I don't look or act like anyone else. I've tried fitting in, and that was one of the best and worse experiences of my life.

I loved being accepted, being surrounded by actual people. I loved feeling normal. I loved not being me.

I hated pretending. I hated knowing that I could only be loved when I wasn't me. I hated not being me.

I went too deep tonight. He yelled again. He made me think. He made me realize what I was doing to myself and to all of those around me (so basically no one). It hurt.

So I covered that pain. I gave myself physical pain. And then I forgot. I'd rather cut too deep than think or feel too deep. Scars heal. Wounds bleed for a few moments. But thoughts… those never leave you. You're stuck with them forever.

So I don't let them form. When I think, I cut. When I feel, I cut. It's the only solution I have, and the only one I know how to have. It makes me unique. I'm the only one stupid enough to do it, so bring it on.

I felt too deep later that night. I was in the shower, and I had an asthma attack. I wanted to call out for my father, to beg him to come with the inhaler. But he would have seen the jagged lines criss-crossing on my arms. He would have seen what years of makeup practice covers up. I didn't call out - I ran to search for the inhaler. I found it at last second.

I risked my life for cutting, and it made me think.

I hated that I could have died, and I loved it at the same time. Maybe I shouldn't have fought it; fate obviously brought the attack on at that moment… why not let nature run its course?

Because I'm afraid. I realized that, and I noticed I was feeling again. My blade is getting too dull now. Need to buy more.

Because no one can know the events that link in my head.

Because last night, I cut too deep. I thought too deep. I felt too deep. I went to deep last night.

(A/N): Ahhh, so sad. Not very Kurt-ish, but I consider him my alter-ego, and this is me, so... close enough. Hope you liked it. Reviews are very welcome.