"You've just got to find something that's more important to you than the pain." The sentence echoed in my head, bouncing off my skull and repeating itself. It made it seem so simple: just find something important and it'll stop. You'll stop. It was so hard though... the blade called to me, singing sweetly of the relief one small cut could bring, if I just quickly sliced my wrist, just once. It wouldn't even have to bleed, and no one would ever know. I could feel better again, if only I just gave in...
No. I couldn't. I had found something, someone, more important to me than cutting, after months of wanting, needing, to cut almost constantly. If I could only force myself to remember, I would be able to live through this. I wanted to live through this, didn't I? I wanted to stop for him, make him see how important he is to me, so important I would stop cutting for him. He would never know anyway, what was the use? The pain, the exhaustion, the relief the blade would give me- it was all I thought about sometimes.
I needed to think. I needed to remember the last time I had cut, and how bad I felt. I needed to remember the look on his face, when he knew I had left him to go cut. The pain of remembering this- it was too much. I didn't want to make myself suffer like that. Remembering the pain like that was half, no, more than half, the reason I cut.
I was ton. Remember the pain, and want to cut, but don't, or don't remember the pain and cut without thinking. The second option was so much more appealing, but didn't i deserve to suffer? Wouldn't the first option make me suffer more? It would rip me apart, though, from the inside out.
"Good interesting, or bad interesting?" I had asked him after he read Thunder. He could read me, like a book, and it scared me. "Good, as long as you don't do it." He cared about me. I can suffer for him. I think.