The amount I overdose is unreal, and I still won’t fucking die.
Last time was before school on Friday, I collapsed in class. They never did anything because it’s happened so much and I tell them I fell or was tired. They really don’t care.
The cuts in my wrist are at least 5 times the depth they usually are, and in a sick way that makes me happier. The only downfall is that it won’t close over, so it’s just a big hole in my arm.
ha
Even more than before I’ve been thinking of what happens after we die. Do we go to heaven? Do we get reincarnated? Or do we simply just die? What I believe is that we are gone, no more living, especially if we take our life. We wanted it over right?
Then I got to thinking about everything that is going wrong in life, school, friends, family. The only thing that is keeping me going is my boyfriend. He knows about my self-harm. But when he found out I starved myself and binged and purged, he was far from supportive. He told me to stop it or he’s leaving me. Which any of you can understand, it only made me worse.
I am getting slightly thinner, I can see my ribs starting to be more prominent and my hip bones stick out. But I still get that fat fold in my belly when I lean over.
But back to subject. I have my suicide planned out. I have the methods I can choose from. We just need a when? We are just waiting on something to push me over the edge.
Two days ago, I relapsed. I started cutting again. But this time much, much deeper.
I had 1799 calories today which made me feel even worse, so I picked up my old best friend. That beautiful sharpened blade. So shiny, still had a drop of blood on it from two days ago. I cut into my leg, but not completely realizing how deep I was at first. But when I felt how good it was once The blade was deeper, the pain numbed my body for longer. Releasing me from the outside world and my mind for just a while.
Sadly my wrist is still bleeding, but my leg has stopped now. It still has that lovely stinking feeling.
To be 100% honest, I don’t want to recover. If I did I’d be miserable.
I woke up this morning feeling quite okay, well by okay I mean the same as always. Slightly depressed with a mild tone of smiles. I got into school, but in my first two classes there was a lot of bitching about this horrible girl bullying one of my friends and it made me quite upset. At break I saw myself in the mirror and it felt like my heart fell to my stomach, I felt ugly and when I said so to my friend she said nothing other than awkwardly continuing her actions.
At lunch I never ate, because I’m realizing I’m getting fatter lately. I never ate all of last week, but my dad found out, I’m sure because he watched me eat at the weekend. It doesn’t help that our group of friends have that type of humor where you make fun of each other. It is starting to give me a complex.
When I got home I purged (made myself sick) and started feeling lower than usual. It got to the stage I over thought everything at the only way to get it away was to cut. Again. I found my blades while tidying my room and before I knew it my arm was covered in blood more than last time. It gets deeper each time, just to numb the inside pain for a little longer.
kim wbu? 