Trigger warning – self harm.
I’m done. Done done done. Done fighting the urge.
As soon as the kids are gone I’m going to start cutting. I give up. Why shouldn’t I anyway? It’ll be a compromise as it is. I can’t attack myself in the frenzy I want to but instead I need to wait, bide my time and then decide where exactly to cut to try and minimise the consequences. Having to be so premeditated about an urge is torture. I want to destroy myself.
Monica would ask me what the emotion is that I’m feeling. That’s easy.
I AM LIVID.
I am so angry at everyone who leaves. They all leave. Everyone hates me and I don’t understand it. I try so hard, so fucking hard, to be good and to hide the badness inside me and yet still somehow people sense it and move away. All except Andy and the kids. I’m so scared. Surely they will leave me soon?
I’m angry at myself. What an idiot I am. I thought I could get better, I thought that people were there to support me and I trusted them. I trusted. What a mistake. Now I can’t tell them anything. I hate myself. And although I’m mad at people leaving I’m also relieved. It’s better that the inevitable has happened. No one cares, everyone leaves, no one cares, everyone leaves, no one cares, everyone leaves.
Well fuck the. Fuck them all. And me. Most of all me. Attack, destroy and punish.