I think i slipped a little...
I came so close to cutting last night.
I got my razor, did the whole ritual of burning it, you know...to"clean" it...and pressed it up against my skin, i pressed down as hard as i could, so my other hand was shaking with the pressure, i kept it there...but i couldn't do it...so i pressed down again in another place...and again, and again, each time just leaving a deep red mark, i didn't bleed, nor did i cut, but i had to feel some kind of pain. I restrained myself from dragging it down my arm, i imagined the pain, i imagined the blood dripping onto my bed sheets. But i didn't do it. After leaving a dozen red indents in my arm, i put it away and left it.
I beat it. I beat the temptation.
Then came the pills.
I had a glass of water by my bed at the ready, i had all my pills.
I day dreamed for a while about taking them, what it would feel like, swallowing each one, waiting for them to take hold...
I imagined passing out, laying lifeless in my bed, unable to move.
With the darkness of death closing in.
I was staring at my drawer where i keep the pills for about half hour...contemplating.
But again...i beat it. Somehow.
That night, last night, i just sat on my bed crying, terrified.
I was up until 5am, tossing and turning, crying at each given moment, unable to turn my thoughts off.
I was so scared.
I was scared how alone i've become again, i'm scared about a future i may have now, i'm scared everyone around me will die, and i'll be left on my own. I'm scared of everything...and i still am.
I feel like i've relapsed a little again...
I'm feeling more and more isolated from people, once more.
I don't want to go out, i don't want to talk to anybody, see anybody.
It's all too much effort.
I want to be alone...but at the same time, i don't?
My life is non existent, i do nothing, every day.
Taking a shower, doing my hair, putting makeup on...it's all such effort...and for what?
To fake a smile, to put on a happy face, to be chatty...when all i want to do is shut up and be alone.
I don't want to be sociable...to be brutally honest...it bores me...only because of the fact, i have to be completly fake.
I don't talk to my friends about how i feel anymore, and now a few of them are on at me to get a job, move out..blah blah blah....so they think i magically cured myself? Like its all gone away? Just because i don't talk about it?
Gimme a break.
If it were that easy, i wouldn't be where i am now.
Still getting suicidal, still staring at thinspo, still hating myself, still sometimes not being able to leave my own house through fear, still filled with paranioa and anxiety, still staring at tumblr blogs filled with depression and hate. Still stuck in this rut of pure depression.
I'd have a career, id have moved out, id be happy.
A part of me does want to get better, it wants to move on, it wants to succeed, be happy...but the other half is too scared, it's still stuck in this pit.
I still cry myself to sleep some nights because i hurt, so badly.
It wont go away.
And it's nights like this, that i believe this will burden me for the rest of my days.
I'll die a nobody. Someone that gave nothing to society, only took. Someone that gave up.
Because some days, thats what i want to do, give up.
It just seems, as soon as i take a step forward, something drags me back down, whether it be a trivial thing, or something big...it will always get me.
Astra x
