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Forgive me Father for I have sinned... *sigh* I cut myself today. One small, tiny cut. Wasn't nearly enough to satisfy me, but if my boyfriend finds out he'll dump me. I just couldn't take it any more... couldn't stand the pressure building up. I tried hitting myself the other day like I used to do but it just didn't work one bit. If only he could even begin to understand... if only he would even try. I can't tell him why I do it or how it makes me feel face to face because I go blank and numb all over when I start to. And he won't read anything I write down. One tiny cut that's going to wreck my relationship. And I can't help but feel angry at him for it... for taking away the one thing that helps me, for doing so without even trying to understand first, for not realizing that it's the one thing that keeps me from trying to kill myself. Do you know how many times I attempted or thought about suicide when I stopped cutting for that short period of time? I know it's a bad habit, I know I should quit, but... I'm just not ready to. I still love it, I still cherish it, I'm still addicted to that bite of cold metal against my skin. I'm still in love with seeing that warm red slide slowly down my arm. I still have problems, I still have too much inside, and quitting won't make that go away. It'll just make it build up until I explode, either have another nervous breakdown or this time just completely go crazy. The razor is my skin's best lover.
And it's not like I'm going to seriously injure myself or accidently kill myself. I never cut deep, I sterilize the razor and swab my skin, and after watching the blood dry I wash the cuts and clean them. The majority of my scars fade away on their own in time, I cut that shallow. At least I'm not banging my head on the floor like I used to. Once I banged my head so hard and so many times I got a lump so large it looked like I had a huge tumor on my head. Cutting is calming, it relieves me, it punishes me, it all and out keeps me straight. But nobody seems to even begin to understand that... no one that's never done it before.
He's home. Hope he doesn't notice, and if he does, that he can believe my cat did it.
My boyfriend saw the cut on my arm today... and I really don't think he believed it came from my cat. *sigh* I don't know what's going to happen now...
He also knows I'm working on this website, but he doesn't know the address or what it's about. I really don't want him to see it unless he's willing to see it with an open mind. Willing to try to understand.
*sigh* But sometimes I think "understand" is not in his vocabulary... at least when it comes to me. Or anyone's vocabulary when it comes to me, for that matter.
Reminds me of an old diary entry of mine...
"I am the vile and disgusting creature there are no words for."
Today one of my friends tried talking to me about my cutting. She really is sweet, and I love her to death. But I actually found myself getting mad at her for trying to talk to me about it and counsel me. I completely clammed up and went into defense mode.
And I'm scared to pieces that my boyfriend's best friend is going to kill himself right now. He's been going through a rough time and confided in me. I tried my best to give him the best advice I could but he got quiet and signed off (we were iming eachother on msn). I'm scared half to death and I have no way of contacting my boyfriend.
He just got online. Thank god he's ok... I hope.
He signed back off. *scratches her head* Ok, now I'm thinking I just done something wrong...
Am I that bad of a supporter? Wow, I hope not...
I tried. I tried my best. *hangs her head* *sigh* Oh well, I guess someone who can't keep their happy thoughts can't be very good giving others happy thoughts... or something like that...
Sometimes I wish I could have my boyfriend's careless, detatched, emotionless attitude...
First of all, my boyfriend's best friend didn't kill himself. He went off and got drunk.
Second of all, I just don't feel like typing anything today... it's one of those days where I just feel empty and blank inside and can barely do anything, much less move. Time seems to have slowed down so much it's almost stopped, and it makes me feel like I'm sluggishly wading through water every time I try to move or think.
And if I could just cut myself a few times with my damn razor blade I'd be ok again. I've moved past the "feeling like I'm going to explode" phase and kicked into my body's emergency lock down system. Much more of this and I'll go straight into another complete breakdown.
Vannessa's not in this body today. Vannessa's dead.
