(trigger warning for self-harm discussion)
I’m so very angry with myself. And feeling remorse/regretful.
I broke my promise to myself last night. I could go into which bit of me did and that it was an insider and not the “whole me”, but I feel like that’s just trying to dodge the blame. It doesn’t matter “who” decided to do it. It doesn’t matter.
I broke a promise.
It’s been three months since I’ve actually cut. I’ve thought about it. I’ve talked about doing it. But I haven’t done it since I moved to my new place.
I’ve drank, I’ve self-medicated, and I’ve restricted. But not cut. Not that. I promised myself I wouldn’t. I promised my friends I wouldn’t.
Why can’t I just keep that one promise? Why? Three months is barely anything. I feel so lost, so remorseful, so…
Sad.
I can’t wear shorts this weekend. I’ll have to be sneaky with Army if we get intimate unless I want him to lecture me (again).
Mad.
The burn and sting of the freshly opened cuts feels so sickeningly good. It shouldn’t. I know it shouldn’t. I hate that it does and I’m so mad that I would use that feeling to try and justify doing it.
Bad.
I just can’t win. I thought the promise was something I valued. I thought I (all of us) truly meant it. I thought we could keep this new apartment free of that negative energy.
But blood has been spilled. And blood stains. It soaks in and ruins everything it touches.
I am worthless.
F-A-T
pen, paper, and crazy 