| Current mood: |  depressed |
hello all..
I wish there was some way to explain to the people I love that when I cut myself it has NOTHING TO DO WITH THEM and that if they don't want to listen to all the bullshit my mind spews at me all day then they should just let me cope the only way I've learned how. I miss the blood. I miss the rush. I miss the feeling that the whole world consists of me and the moment... anytime I cut myself by accident at work it's all I can do to not just sit and play with the blood. The only time I get to watch myself bleed these days is when those accidents occur. I feel like i'm breaking up into pieces. It's been almost three years since I've been on a cutting binge and the scars I racked up last time are starting to fade. I've been keeping myself from cutting for about three years, out of respect for my mom and my boyfriend who get really fucking upset with me when I do it. If I was single and nobody ever saw me naked my thighs would be back to their bloody glory, covered in criss-crosses and gashes... and as time goes by I miss that more and more. I wonder if I'll ever be able to let my self-injury problem fade away...
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