I relapsed last night. I'm not sure why. I just felt like it. I needed to do it. I deserved it. 14 cuts on my arm and 46 cuts on my thigh.
After I did it, I instantly regret it.
Maybe when you relapse you don't regret it. I know that after I relapse, I feel a surge of relief, but around 10 minutes after I do it, I regret it.
The pain.
The trouble of hiding it from my parents.
The disappointment in my parents eyes.
Seeing as it's getting warmer here in Australia, I have to try not to wear long sleeves because I know I'll be questioned when I really don't want to be questioned. I know it sounds stupid.
I know people may be thinking I'm attention seeking. Who knows. Maybe I am. Maybe I just want someone to notice how sad I am that i have to bring a blade to my skin. How I hate myself so much that I cry.
How I get called names and have to act like it doesn't hurt, but it does.
YOU ARE READING
In Order to Stay Alive, I Think I Have to Kill My Mind
Non-FictionTRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ This is your trigger warning. Please do not read any further if you are easily triggered. I began writing this book in 2018 when I was at one of the worst times in my life. I am still writing it in 2020, and am hoping to write i...
