It’s been too long. I’m disappointed in myself for many reasons.

I was doing more or less alright. I’ve had many ups and downs. But right now, I can feel my depression creep back in. It’s extremely unsettling. I want to vomit, and cry, and scream, and run away.
I want to cut. But I can’t. I have to stop upsetting the people around me.

I might have a panic attack, if I don’t stay on top of keeping calm. I feel like the world is crumbling in around me. I’m scared. Afraid. Terrified.




I’m itching to cut right now.
And it’s fucking rough.


Trigger Warning: Major Problems


My friend told me to fake it until I make it. In other words, continue to tell myself I’m strong and deserve better and that I’m not at fault. I can’t do this? I’m just lying to myself, I know the truth. How do you believe lies?
I mind fucked myself and started crying. I grabbed my teddy bear and snuggled with him to hopefully make me feel better.
Now, I’m having these sick thoughts, that are out of my control. They started when I was analyzing my recent self harm scars. Seriously, what is wrong with me? Why do I think this way? My mind is so fucked. If I lived in the US and in a country that served the death sentence with death, that’s where I’d be.
These thoughts are that ridiculous. And my brain is saying that I could probably get the nerve to do it if I flipped that switch where I go kind of crazy and hysterical.

Not too mention, I’m still depressed as fuck and contemplating self harm again, after already ripping my self apart last night.

Major problems…

Skin Game

You might imagine that a person would resort to self-mutilation only under extremes of duress, but once I’d crossed that line the first time, taken that fateful step off the precipice, then almost any reason was a good enough reason, almost any provocation was provocation enough. Cutting was my all-purpose solution.

He Said He’s Done

I’m dying inside right now.
I’ve had a hand full of anxiety attacks this evening. I’m pretty sure it’s about time for another. I need immediate pain killers. Getting high, taking too many sleeping pills, taking all my Zanax pills and cutting.

He said he’s done.

My mind has imploded. My emotions have more than exceeded their capacity. I’ve gone insane; literally insane. The tears, the screaming, the yelling, the punching, the rage, the pain, the shakes, the chills, the hot flashes, the fast heart beat, the hyperventilating, the numbing and paralyzation of my body, the feeling of unreality, the feeling of having no control, the need to escape right this second.

I’ve already thought on how I would try this time. It’s mapped out with no care for the consequences.

I need help… NOW



Perfect lines crossed her wrists, not near any crucial veins, but enough to leave wet red tracks across her skin. She hadn’t hit her veins when she did this; death hadn’t been her goal.
She felt so much emotionally, she would say, that a physical outlet – physical pain – was the only way to make her internal pain go away. It was the only way she could control it.



It’s too early and it hurts.