December 19. 2012 7:09 AM Wednesday
Everything is swirling, confusing me and clouding my thoughts.
Do you know what I do when I'm alone? It's not just cutting, which I hadn't been doing as much of until yesterday.
I pace back and forth in pitch darkness. The music is too loud, but thats perfectly fine. I still try to turn it up. I throw things. I scream. I dig my nails into my skull, drag them along skin. I lie in bed for hours with no thoughts in my head.
This is what I do after school, every day. It's quite frightening. This is my nest of loneliness. My body is urging me to EAT, EAT but at the same time, I desperately don't want to, it feels like the end of the world anyhow.
If the world descended into anarchy on Friday (not that I believe the Mayan Calendar was accurate about that shit) I would feel right at home.
I've always wanted to be special... A survivor. Someone with battle scars, but oh... not battle scars from myself. I'm not proud of my self mutilation. I have no idea how some people can just parade around, like Aaron's friends, throwing their arms around everyone's noses:
"Look! I was sad last night! Look what I did!"
Like it's something cool to do. Like they're telling me, I should be jealous. I just find it disgusting, really.
Aaron told me she cut her hips and she felt like crying. I felt nothing. Is this what I am now? I heartless soul?
The thing about self-harm that every self-harmer knows and every beginner ignores is... It eats away at you.Your personality slowly deteriorates until its nothing and all you are is the blood. You are a carcass of what you once were.
The final stages, deeper and deeper, more and more.
I'm sorry I left them all. I'm sorry I receded into my own head. I can't handle it. I want to know every detail about your lives, but I find that when I help people, I blame any misgiving on myself and who knows why, because in many cases, there was nothing I could do.
Once I told Lily that I felt guilty, always sitting there while she freaks about not being able to find her blade.
She told me not to feel that way because she likes that I don't freak out and force her to stop - It means I understand.
I don't understand. I know what its like to cut, but I don't know why she does. I know full well why I do it, and I have a long list of reasons why with FEAR at the top of it. But why does she?
And she's tried to kill herself. Didn't know that until yesterday. Now I'm wondering... Why? How? When?
Does she think its awesome, trying to kill herself? I don't know.
Why does everyone think this is the new thing?
If you didn't have depression before cutting, you most likely will get it while cutting.
It'll turn into your go to friend. You're coping mechanism.
How do I even kill myself? I don't really have a way. The truth is, I want a way where there is a chance someone can save me. I think pills are out the question.
They make me sick, even after all this time.
But you know something that's weird? Every time I am ready to cut but I don't, its because I started reading Harry Potter again (I've reread the series a million times) or because I'm watching the Harry Potter movies.
For that wonderful person who sent me feedback, I'll reply soon, I'm just... bleugh. What you wrote really meant a lot to me.
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