Ambrosia
November 24th, 2010, 12:10 AM
I don’t cut as often as I used to, no more of that every day twice a day stuff. But I do it more times in one sitting then I ever did. Little things seem to bother me more and more then they ever did. I get very anxious to the point of having panic attacks, small things upset me more then they should and I find myself worrying over things that aren’t even my fault or that big of deals. The feelings inside that would normally be nothing to other people feel like they are twenty times worse to me. It just kind of swells in my chest like a pocket of hot air. And then the only way to get rid of them is by cutting. I have tried to stop and I have tried doing the alternate ways but nothing works. I always go back. I always regret having cut myself that first time a few years ago but that urge to quit has just deserted me. Its scary to know that I don’t want to stop. It’s worse when I realize no one is ever going to make me. My wrists are scarred noticeably but none of my family has ever noticed them when so many other people have. My legs (which I cut the most) are covered in hundreds of scars that I know will never go away (scars on top of scars). I cut deeper and deeper every time I do it and I intentionally try and bleed more and more. I hate it. I hate myself. And I hate how everyone says that the only thing wrong with me is hormones. Is that what makes me cut? I can never tell my family. I can never talk about it with any of my friends. No one ever even wants to listen to me. They interrupt me to talk about themselves or simply tell me I’ll get over whatever the problem is because it’s “not a big deal”. I love cutting because it’s the only thing that listens and the only thing that promises to deflate every problem that threatens me.
I’m sorry about posting this. I just really wanted to tell someone about this. It’s stupid that I even wrote this…and even worse that I’m going to post it. But I really just felt like I needed to.
I’m sorry about posting this. I just really wanted to tell someone about this. It’s stupid that I even wrote this…and even worse that I’m going to post it. But I really just felt like I needed to.