I'm relieved. for now. the anxieties and panic attacks had stopped for a while and i'm more than happy I could sleep peacefully now. without worrying If I would ever wake up halfway trough my sleep with a loud thud on my chest.
I don't know for how long this will keep on going, but I'm savoring every minute of it, for chances like this don't come usually as I wanted to. and I don't want to resort to some self-inflicted injuries just so I could relieve it. NO. even if it's the only option left for me to do. (i know there are still a lot of other options, but it's the only thing that helps a lot..)
I know one way or another I have to stop cutting. I can't be a cutter forever. and I certainly don't want to stop just because there's nothing left of my body to cut anymore. I have to have a lot of courage not to indulge to triggers no matter how triggering they seem to be. but then at the back of my mind, I know i couldn't give it up just yet. not at times like these. but i will give it up eventually. I know I will. I just don't know when.
this is a very inappropriate [place] to talk about something really private. something that you don't want others to know just so you wouldn't have to see their disgusted faces like you're some kind of a piece of shit. but i don't want to play pretend anymore. i don't want to let people know I'm some 'ms. goody-two-shoes' when inside I have a lot of scars to hide.
because the more I pretend, the more I get too close to people and when you get too close, you needed to be true to them. and just as when you have dropped that bomb that explodes a lot of secrets, they tend to leave. like as if they never knew you. like you never existed. and everything that had happened between the two of you, no matter how substantial it was, it wouldn't matter anymore. and that surely hurts like hell. it surely did hurt like hell and it certainly makes you cut a lot more. deeper and deeper..
it's better being true the first time. like right now. you could judge me now. I don't care what happens after. stay or leave, it doesn't make any difference: I have nasty cuts. that become nasty scars..
but they're the kind of cuts that help. they're the kind of scars that says I survived every nasty cut of life.
And I'm bleeding..
but then I'm living.
that's all that matters after all.
(I wouldn't have been like this if it weren't for the people who had caused a lot of trauma in me. but that's another story. and I'm saying, I still haven't got past through that part of my life. I'm still hurting. and I won't forgive it just easily as it have ruined me.. but someday I will. yea. you got it right. I'M BLAMING YOU. AND YOU. AND YOU. AND YOU...)
I made a hatelist. I SHOULD POST IT SOMETIME. *evil grin*
For now, I'm happy no more anxieties and panic attacks.
I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel.
I focus on the pain,
the only thing that's real.
-- Hurt, Nine Inch Nails
Scars are souvenirs you never lose.
-- Name, Goo Goo Dolls
I certainly didn’t tell anyone; I didn’t advertise that I was doing this, but I didn’t necessarily also make sure no one could see that I was injured. In fact, I felt proud of it; I felt good about it. It was like a battle scar: [it] proved [that I had been] grievously wounded and survived. When I hid my scars, I did so because I didn’t want anyone to think I was a basket case or a mental case and to look down on me or to pity me or to stop hanging out with me or leave me because they couldn’t handle me..
-- Helena, in Jane Wegscheider Hyman’s Women Living with Self-Injury
My wounds do the weeping
I cannot.
-- S. Marie
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