.Thursday, 8 August 2013 ♫ 11:36 ♫
I guess. I should say.
I post pictures whenever I cut. Yes. Why? Cos I keep track of it. I used to do it in my phone. Just leave it in a folder with the dates on em so I know when I did it. If it's happening too often, I stop. If it's not done in a few weeks, I get happy, slightly. Now that I know this blog is only read by a few people (I think Syafiqah and Sundram). I guess it's safe to put it up here.
And for now. I risk getting cuts all over my left arm now. This perfectionist feeling to cover it with cuts cos there's already a lot, it's like. Asking me to. Then I ask myself, "how am I going to hide this from everyone?" ...It's going to be hard. I don't wear long sleeves everyday. I can't be wearing a jacket when the sun's out shining in my face.
It's my ventilation. It's where I breathe. Cutting's the only thing that really makes me feel better, more than talking to people about it. I'm serious... I don't know why either. Must be because I've done it for so long already. Everyone tries to stop me. But do they even try and ask me, why? Do they bother about it? They just want me to stop. But why can't they try to find out WHY I won't stop? I don't know either, but maybe a counselor or psychiatrist might.
But no, my parents don't want me being sent to them. I need them most now. But they won't let me see a counselor. Because I'm not "crazy". No mum, I'm not crazy. I'm dead. I want to be alive again. But you're not letting me. I want to get better. I want to get well. But you didn't bother getting help for me to get better. Why?.. Is it because I'm not perfect?
-Alyce