Utterly Pathetic.

When do we cease to worry?

When something drags on so long it becomes as monotonous as the air we inhale, exhale, repeat and continue? when things just become so suffocating that you struggle to breathe and your head feels like it's going to explode into a thousand or more pieces so tiny you know you'll never put it together again? I'm worried. I'm so fucking scared that everything is going to collapse around me again and I don't want to be alone again, my heart can't take it.

First, my friends died in October, and now my uncle is back in hospital with a brain tumor -- to top that, my brother has collapsed yet again in what seems to be a much larger attack of whatever the fuck is wrong with him; i'm trying not to let them impact my life because i'm already a mess, but i can't help it. Whatever wrongs they've done me, however much they've failed me, they're still my family. My mum is deteriorating and seems to enjoy rubbing it in everyone's faces, telling us she'll probabably be dead soon.

Do I have to watch 3/6 members of my family die in the space of a year?



I fucked up. I have to admit this, because i've made a promise now, and the only way I can fulfil this is to make sure that as many people are aware of how low I am right now.

Over the last two weeks, i've been cutting again. I don't really know what to say apart from that. The first time was over an argument with a friend; i had the sense of suffocating loss and i knew the only thing that had ever relieved that was self harm. Then, on Sunday, my birthday was fucked up beyond all recognition -- i was ignored by my family, fobbed off and basically discarded. I had friends here, but I wanted my family to notice me for just that one day. Instead I got a letter through the door while I was asleep, ignored phonecalls, broken promises and hung up on by my brother. I threw my phone across the room and went into the bathroom, where I cut myself again.

It was easy to hide, long sleeved jumpers and support bandages for my dodgy wrist, but then last night, I was alone again, and I didn't need to hide them. I hated being alone so badly and that's how it started. Then, my OCD kicked in; I couldn't stop staring at the unhealed mess on my arm, a small mass of parallell lines which taunted me in their unevenness. I wanted it to be complete, and I knew the only way to do that would be to cover my whole arm. So I did.

I cut thirty more lines into my arm, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I was using an unfamiliar razor, and I ended up cutting too deep; my body started to work so hard to repair the damage that I began to feel dizzy and sick and I passed out for around five minutes. If I hadn't had one of my friends talking to me, I probably would have just gone to sleep and gone into shock, because that's where my body was headed. It took me a while to stop the bleeding and almost two hours before I stopped feeling like I could pass out at any second. Now i'm left with my perfectly covered arm, hating myself for it.

But I did do one thing. I promised. I promised i'd never cut again to possibly the one person i'd die before hurting (not counting Damien); the one thing I hate doing above all is breaking a promise.. So...maybe. Just maybe.

to anyone who's been here; you know what I mean.

I feel pathetic.