Anonymous asked: *Hugs*
I’m good with Internet hugs. Thank you.
Showering after a run…and STILL sweating…arrrrrggggh
I ran two miles, the whole time worrying about somebody seeing my exposed arms. I even purposely ran on the opposite side of the road (and aggravated drivers) just to avoid people who probably wouldn’t even look at me.
I don’t want to run… mostly because it’s hot and sunny outside. Maybe I’ll wear an extra large T-shirt instead of my usual running jacket. Nobody’s going to notice the more faded scars on my forearm…
I’ll go out in about fifteen minutes; just have to wait for people to evacuate the house.
I’m also lazy… and if I’m not fully covering my arms then I’ll stick to the neighbourhood and not run along the main road.
Pfft… I also really want to cut right now.
While I’m waiting for everyone to leave the house… my day wasn’t that great. I was tired and really warm because I refuse/can’t to wear capris or t-shirts. I felt so disconnected from everyone, mostly because I isolated myself as much as possible while being with people. I just wasn’t happy. I’ve stopped expressing my feelings. I guess I’m more of an emotional person because I always seem to be the one who actually shares what I feel… or at least I used to do that. Or maybe I’m the one out of our little circle who feels pain more acutely than they do.
Yeah…these thoughts are killing me. I want to tell someone that I don’t like being alive, that I wouldn’t mind jumping off a bridge or taking every pill in the house. But I’m scared that they’ll overreact and tell someone else so that I’ll have to answer questions.
They’re almost gone now. I should change into running clothes then.
I want to know who this girl is and how she made such horrific scars. Not because I want to imitate her, but because I need to feel all the pain that she is, in hopes that perhaps I can understand.
My mom is back after a three-week vacation, and she brought back these little Asian cakes with unknown amounts of calories in them. I ate a pear this morning (133), and we were all sampling the cakes, so just to please her I had some. I feel so disgusting and triggered because my little sister only ate a fourth of one after eating her toast with peanut butter and jelly (245…ugh, I even count her calories, not counting her orange juice, though), and she said she was full.
I want to cut.
triggeredtriggeredtriggeredtriggered
want to have to need to cut.
and we’re leaving the house in five minutes.
profanity.
Everybody came back from their prom weekend, tired and filled with stories to tell. I was tired too, but I felt like I didn’t have a right to be so because I didn’t stay up until six in the morning (I had anxiety nightmares all weekend). So I stayed quiet and kept my face blank.
I don’t think they understood why I didn’t go…because I didn’t want to. And they felt sorry for me. I wish they didn’t.
I made a stupid mistake today; I accidentally locked the trunk of the car while closing it and my dad yelled at me for being dumb. Sorry. It was out of habit.
Should I cut myself tonight? The answer should be obvious — no, of course. But to me it feels like a question worth asking. Should I roll up pant leg and watch the blood flow? Should I go to all the trouble to mop up the blood and somewhat address the wound afterwards? Will I stain my clothes and how will I deal with that?
There seems to be several different types of urges to cut: the kind of urge where I feel like I will suffocate if I don’t do it - there’s no reasoning with me. Then there’s the other kind where I’ll feel “better” if I do cut, but I don’t have that want to need to have to cut urge.
These are the questions that I ask myself when I feel like the latter. I’m in a mindset where I can reason with myself to find a distraction, but then again, do I really?
worthless useless worthless useless worthless useless
What difference does it make when I end up hating myself even more? Doesn’t matter if there’s any difference between the two words because I will cut anyway and no one will care.
