Letter to Mark Bobby #3

>>> left hand, held the scissors. Doesn't it give you the shits when your textas run out? Let God be the scapegoat. Not for the textas, for the cuts.

You think you can say I did them but i didn't. After we broke up I put off going home until Thursday. I managed to get in trouble anyway on that Wednesday but I don't even remember cutting my skin. I just realised I cut it with scissors. I don't know when or where. Proof enough I didn't do it!! Do you think I've got 2 personalities? Sometimes I am sure there is more than one of me (but we don't think so, boom boom!!) and they are all bad.

Anyway how dare you break up with me? I mean it's not the break up that hurt but the rest. For ending the relationship as such you are forgiven, it is within your allowances as in everybody elses. But how dare you allow me to love you then take off? How dare you hurt me? How dare you make me cry? How fucking dare you ever let me think I could be loved by anyone? I hate you because you made me believe in both of us and there was nothing to believe in. I hate you because you strode into my life like you could just be important to me if it suited you. I hate you because you made me happy and you made me feel ... like I deserved to be happy and because you let me think I couldn't wreck >>>