I did something really fucking crazy yesterday...I cut "LOVE" on my right leg....OxO
Then, a few hours later, I cut "NO" above it, although I'm not sure why I did that. And on Thursday, I reopened my scar from over a year ago.
I tried drawing something short of a star on my knee, but it didn't really work out...O.o;;
But..when I cut "LOVE"...I loved how the blood trickled down my leg...I fucking loved it. I wished I had done it at home, rather than school, cuz I had to go out for P.E....Then I kinda bled on the floor, but I don't think anyone noticed.
...I didn't even last 3 weeks from cutting....The last time I had cut before I started again was something like Jan. 11th..
I just like seeing the blood. I almost get a rush from seeing it trickle down from where I cut myself. Of course, now, having cut "LOVE" on my leg, that hinders me from swimming, so instead, I'm going to a movie. My parents don't exactly know that I started cutting again...I'm just careful to not cut my arms...They freaked out over the cut on my palm... :/
My Prozac isn't working. Whatever. I'm tired of wanting to be saved...I'm tired of people trying to save me. I'm tired of having to do my cutting in secret. I'm tired of being scared that I'm going to be put in a mental ward for where the self harmers go. I'm tired of everything except my job. I'm tired of feeling guilty...
Speaking of feeling guilty...When I saw my counsellor, I told her how I had gotten an urge to cut but I didn't...She told me good job. But she didn't know that I had cut myself..Just not with a blade.. I almost told her...But I'm not telling her. Telling her means not cutting. Telling her means going to some mental ward..Telling her means losing trust..and maybe my job. Telling her means risking everything I've ever set myself up for (life and other shit)...Yeah. I'm tired and cranky from working...Mmm.
Anyways, I'll talk to you guys later, if I don't hit an artery before next time..