No I’m not dead… here’s my life at the moment.
I relapsed afte 16 days cut free, & that was a couple of weeks ago.
I think my boyfriend & I are headed for a breakup.
I had to move back in with my parents, so, till this weekend I have no internet or phone.
I have YET to see my therapist… every time I go make an appt. something comes up & I never get to actually see him.
My mom continually calls my cuts “scratches” & it makes me laugh & pissed off all at the same time.
I’m done with the drama troupe till September.
I’m going to the beach this summer with my friends & I have no idea where I’m going to a.) get funds & b.) cover these scars.
I want my tattoo but I’m broke as FUCK.
I don’t even have the energy to really write everything on my mind.
Sorry guys. Life is too hard.
I’ve ate like such a fucking pig this past week.
Holy shit, the calories I’ve consumed make me sick…
Not doing that again, nope nope nope.
Just found out my bestfriend is addicted to sleeping medication…
Any idea on how I can help her?
I’ve only got dealing with my addiction (cutting), so I don’t really know how to deal with this sort of addiction…
Help, please?
Sorry about the last few days, you guys.
I haven’t been on in a pretty long time now, I’m really sorry.
Between moving back to my mom’s house & having to deal with a death in the family & having to deal with being triggered & being just tired & runing & running & running… there isn’t time to blog about my problems or anything.
Well, I have time now, so… here it goes…
My mom & the rest of my family had a major fight, so I had to move back in with my mom. So that means really no internet & phone & tv & stuff for a while, so I’m using public wifi to talk & get everything out.
So, I’m 12 days clean from cutting & it’s getting harder & harder to deal with. I mean, REALLY hard. I’m ready for a relapse any day now, but to be honest, I feel bad about maybe cutting inside my mom’s house. I don’t now why & can’t describe it. I gave her my razorblades, & they are still laying on the dresser in her bedroom where she laid them. Wrapped in a bloody tissue & gauze.
Part of me wants to steal them back, part of me whats to break open a new razor, part of me doesn’t wanna cut at all, & part of me wants to cut & never never stop.
Basically I’m really confused. I’m not happy really.
But I’m okay.
So, that’s my past few days.
Everything is wrong.
Shoot me now, please.
Get me out of my misery.
