Vicious Cycle

it hurts so bad that at the end of every day i feel this way. no matter how the sun had hit my face that day. or how many compliments i received. the people that i had touched, or the ones who had touched me. the richness of the lava cake i ate at dinner, or the laugh lines that formed when i heard a funny joke. none of it matters, because now i'm here. like i am every night. hurt. crying. empty. wanting to cut, but tortured by the weight of this urge; do i give in, and succumb to the demons that reside inside my mind? disappoint my friends, parents, counselor, and even myself? or do i make them proud, and in turn just hurt more inside. it's like sexual tension, the feelings just build and build, but there is never a release. i need a release. not writing a poem, or calling a friend. i need one that bleeds and that hurts me. one that spells out in the most obvious way how i feel inside. or even how little i feel inside. how little i value myself, and then i just want to cry until i fall asleep, and begin the whole cycle again. "maybe today will be better", i say as the morning sun hits my face again. or maybe i'll just find myself here, again.