The Real Reason

Sitting in my bathroom.
I hit it.
Not the artery.
The tendon.
What was the point of that?

I go to the hospital to get stitched.
What is the point of having a severed tendon?
I had aimed for the artery.
Why can I never aim correctly?

I tell nobody of my true intentions
Not even the best of my best friends
Not my confidantes
Not even my writings
Until now, of course, for the world to see
For the world to know
That I am a sinner
That I am SELFISH
That I am wrong
                                              That I am alive.
                                    Be it as it may, I do not live.
                                        Does that make sense?