algebra

there are two sides to me. i love my depression and the blood that comes with cutting. i love how i have scars on my wrist and soon scars on my hips. sometimes i can't stop crying and i beat my fists into my bed saying, "i'm a mess." somestimes i love self destruction. then there is the other side. the part of me that loves being happy, for smiling because the sun is shining, because i saw a fucking flower. sometimes i think it is so pathetic. but i love it. i love being in my own world where i find happiness in a new dress, in a pair of knee socks, or finding a kitten in my backyard.

i don't know what to do.