I really do need people to read this. It happens to all of us-- the temptation.
But this is what happens when it gets hold of us, tears us down into little more than animals, no control over our actions or emotions.
Take it from someone who's done something just as bad as what I've wrriten about-- in some cases exactly.
Please, just read it.

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3927733 These are the first 7 chapters.
______________


Poof! go your brain cells

I went to class
high
today, singing with
The angels,
On top
Of the world and
Leaving
My worries behind.
The teachers noticed
A change, and
My friends
Are worried, but that
Doesn't matter--
I'm leaving all my troubles
[rightBehind[/right]

In Death Valley, while I picnic
On Mount Whitney.



I swear

To drunk I'm not God
(I'm stoned)

To you I won't do it again
(Until tomorrow)

To me that I hate what I'm doing to myself
(Except when I'm high)



Cutting

I've started cutting myself.

People overreact to it-- it's
not half bad.

Using the blade like a leech,
Sucking everything out of you
And leaving only pain to replace pain.

Feel the hiss of the ice-cold deathbringer
Cold and uncaring 'gainst your shivering, sweaty arms.
For once it's bringing some sick and twisted
form
of happiness.

Because I do feel happy when I cut myself--

Watching the dark rosy fluid
leak up and
spill
over the sides, taking my sanity
with it.



I had to Clean
Up the mess I made,
The crimson that had dribbled down in
Droplets onto the floor.

By the time I was done,
The makeshift tourniquet I had
Invented was soaked in
My blood.
And it obviously wasn't blue.


I should explain

My comment.
Blue blood is royalty. Called an
Idiom, dimwits. I know it stumped you.

My mother called from downstairs.
Collin? Get down here.
She calls, and I know there was a
Perverse twist in her words.
She'd be dead soon--
She was old.
Coming, Mom.


Mom
Lazed on the couch like some
Profound Jabba,
Folds of fat flopping
Off her easy chair like
So many cakes eaten whole.

What do you want, Mom?
A beer, obviously,
was her response.
I really need to drown my sorrows.
Get me dinner while you're at it.

I sigh, turning away from her lank, greasy hair,
Her pallid complexion,
Her dim eyes staring in the
Only slightly dimmer lights towards the T.V.
Figures. 'Drowning her sorrows'
Is her way of saying,
'I'm not high and need
To fix it.'