idk

I dont know what to do.

I feel discouraged by a lot of things right now.

And I dont know what to do.

So for now.

I'm sitting on my bed.

Starring at my computer.

Bleeding from my arm.

I want to go to sleep.

but I cant move.

I cant do anything.

It's bad

When you actually WANT

to go to a mental institution.

When you think it'd be good for you.

It's become a daily thing

where I think about suicide,

in at least ten different ways.

I think about it a lot.

And I almost...

crave it.

It's like a deep deep desire

of mine

to die.

Living to die?

Living to die.

stress

And I feel sick

sick to my stomach

and dizzy in my head

and also

as if something or someone has

taken over my body.

It doesnt feel mine anymore.

Lately I have been so stressed out. About school

Dying relatives

Boy troubles

Kaylee and her cancer

But mostly just school

and Bryce.

It's getting to the point where I physically cannot deal anymore. And it's taking a toll on my body. Vomiting.

Vomiting in random places at random times because the stress has taken over my body and is controlling everything. Who I am. How I react. And so forth.

I cant even tell you how many times I have found myself curled over the toilet, dry heaving and heaving and heaving

and then sometimes I will eventually throw up.

Sometimes there's just nothing there.

And it's not only throwing up. Sometimes I get so s-t-r-e-s-s-e-d that I cant stop shaking...or I cant keep myself from rocking back and forth.

back and forth.

I dont know what this all means. I almost feel how I felt in my insomniac times. And that's not good. [like as if there's a bubble around you, filled with water. moving so slow. hearing so foggy]

I'm just so sick

so so sick

of this place.

Take me home.

here comes the drama?

I have scars all over my body. I have cut on my arms, shoulders, hips, thighs, legs, ankles, hands, waist, even the bottom of my feet. I have bled more than the next person.

And yet.

The places that I want to cut the most are the ones where I cant. I badly crave cutting my neck or throat. Or to cut my cheeks and face. And I so so badly want to cut all up and down my arms. on the uncoverable parts. I want to cut right beneath my collarbone. or X-out where my actual heart is.

I want to cut all the time. I just want to hurt myself. I want to bleed and bleed and bleed. I just want to bleed so much.

Why am I so sad?

Why do I want to bleed

so bad?

I just want to be alone.

leave me alone.

If it were more socially acceptable I would cut on all those places. And I wouldnt hide. And people wouldnt ask questions. And if they did, they wouldnt care. I wouldnt be wearing this long sleeved sweater. And I would be happy in my sadness.

I am so cold. so so cold. It's not going away.

The blood always clots up. Eventually you can stop dabbing with a tissue. It will dry and then flake off in sticky clumps. Eventually they heal. But you never do.

I dont know all the instances I have cut. I dont know why for each time.

But it still hurts.

The cuts always heal. But I still feel so so broken.

Why am I still here?

Last night was the first night in a LONG LONG time where I actually wondered why I was still living. Last night is the first in a long time where I considered ending it. All over again. Last night I wanted to die. Last night it would've been oh so easy.

Why.

Why is it last night? and not THE last night.

Taking the easy way out.

Because I cannot handle reality.

I just cannot handle this

anymore.

There has been a certain amount of times where it just gets too bad. And where I actually want to kill myself. Other times, most times, I just feel depressed. Horribly horribly depressed.

And that's bad enough.

But there are times, instances, where I dont only crave cutting. I crave the end.

Is this melodramatic?

I'm sorry.

Here comes the drama:

addict.

In two years I have cut approximately 365 times. And since the 9th grade, approximately 450 times.

The second one is less accurate because some of the beginning cuts are a little fuzzy....but it's still fairly accurate.

It's just something I do....I count every cut that I make. Each time I do it.

In 2009 I started writing it down with the date and how many times I've cut. And I've been keeping track like that ever since. Before then I had a piece of paper that I would record my cuts on, but no dates were included....and in the very very beginning I used to only record the instance that I cut. Like if in one night, I cut twice...I would list it as ONE. So that's why the numbers are off a little bit.

But in two years I have cut approximately 365 times. That's one cut a day for a year. (Or every other day for 2 years...) When I look at it that way, it doesnt seem that bad. especially considering that for one day, I have cut 102 times. And today I cut myself 33 times.

Cutting is looked as bad, by society. So I guess it's bad that it doesnt phase me anymore. I dont see it as doing something bad anymore. And what's worse is that I ENJOY doing it. I like it. And if I'm 100% honest I dont think that I will be able to quit. I might for a period of time...but I dont think I will actually quit.

I sound like an addict, right?

"What's so wrong with it, if it makes me feel good??"

That's what you hear from a drug addict or maybe an alcoholic.

I dont know what this means.

I know I have a problem.

I just dont want to fix it.

Last night...

Last night was another one of those nights.

Bryce and I, wrapped up in each others arms. Watching a movie that neither of us were really watching.

He asked me what was up.

I told him nothing.

He said something along the lines

"I can tell by the sounds of your breathing that it's not nothing"

I turned over to look him in the eyes.

My heart hurt right then.

He kissed me on the forehead

my cheeks

and my nose.

Saying,

"You have the cutest lips

the cutest nose

but the saddest eyes."

We're a bunch of cheeseballs...

He asked me

Why I hated myself so much?

I wasnt expecting it.

And I never know what to say

when asked questions like these.

To be put on the spot.

Why do I hate myself?

I have never thought of it as

me hating myself.

Anyways.

He cares about me.

I think that means he cares about me.

Why cant I just let him care?

I'm always so guarded.

I almost never let guys in.

almost.

never.

This mechanism...

The one that is stopping me from letting go.

from really feeling.

The one that is defending me, my heart.

It means well

but it always will hurt me.

I dont know what to do.

And I dont know why, or if I even do, "hate myself."

I dont even know who I am.

sabotage?

So I have a boyfriend...you know this.

And I'm happy with him, I really am! He treats me soo good, SO GOOD.

So why did I hide my tears last night when we were cuddling in the dark?

Why was I crying?

I dont know.

I'm scared of a lot of things. Small things. Irrational fears. Rational fears....I have anxiety, okay?!

And I suppose last night was just one of those nights...

I kept thinking "What happens when it all ends? What will happen when you hurt me, or I hurt you? What happens then??"

And while I was wondering that, I was also wondering why I was wondering it!

My first reaction to situations like this

[boys that like me back]

is to end it.

To cut things off. To stop them before they start.

To sabotage myself.

To make myself hurt.

Sound familiar??

What is it with me and wanting to hurt myself?

It's a pattern that is somewhat constant in my life.

Whether it's physical and in the now, like cutting or hitting myself.

Or long term, like smoking because I know it increases my chances of getting cancer.

Or mental, when I abuse myself but only in my mind.

Or even to break my own heart, because I'm too scared that someone else will do it for me.

It really is sabotage.

I have a good thing.

I have a real good thing right now.

And I dont want to ruin it.

But there's always that voice in the back of my head.

The one that says, "If he really knew you. If he really knew how messed up you were, he would hate you. He would be so disgusted by you. You make him sick."

And I dont even know if I believe it or not. Do I believe the lies? Are they even lies?

The question is, am I really sabotaging myself.

Or.

Am I just protecting myself from getting hurt?

Either way the pain is inevitable.

Someone will get hurt.

And I promise it will be me.

This or that.

I feel so confused right now.

And insecure.

Am I happy? Or not...

I will say that I think I have been happier lately. I think.

I hate that so often a boy will determine my mood. happy. sad. depressed.

It shouldn't be that way. I mean shouldn't I be secure all on my own?

So.

Am I happy because I am with someone right now?

Or are the meds finally kicking in?

Or am I in the good part, the part that comes right before the bad, ugly part. It comes in waves.

I just dont know.

?