I need to write.
So here I am, writing another chapter to something that I only go one review for. But oh well. I write because I love to write, not because I have to write.
I gave up trying not to vent to my friends.
I had a major vent-session to one of them and a shorter one to the other. And it's funny how fast they can change the subject. If they want me to vent to them, shouldn't they hear me out?
But oh well, again.
I really just want to cut. So badly now that it's starting to hurt me physically, not just emotionally.
I started hyperventilating earlier. It was scary.
I told them that I hurt; that I don't want to say eight weeks and three days; that I want to cut. They asked why, but I didn't know why. But I'd like to know why, too.
But I want to cut. And I just walked past something sharp.
But they won't let me.
If I don't get better, he's gonna tell on me again.
He already told, hence the me going to two more sessions' thing came up. Too bad you just can't post chat conversations, it'd make things so much easier.
Oh, but he's going to tell that I don't think a seventy-two hour lock in is such a bad idea. It doesn't sound like one to me, hasn't for a while. But I haven't done anything. As of yet, that is.
If he tells, I'm going to not only get the seventy-two hour lock it, but I'm going to be watched more carefully and I'm going to hurt more because I'll have to go to more sessions. And, as I told him, I can't go to more sessions- emotionally- and I won't go- physically.
They'll have to drag me.
No- I'll go, but I won't talk.
I hurt and it feels like no one understands me anymore.
I don't know what it's like to be loved so much that people care about you enough to tell. Even though I've had it done once, and will likely have it done so again, I can't feel it, if that makes sense.