In about 3-4 weeks, I'll probably have a therapist of some sort and some other crap, or it'll be the same as now, only much worse.
For the past two days, I've stayed up into the early hours of the morning with a good friend, talking about my cutting and what I could do about it. She plainly suggested I just go for it, and get help. Meaning I'll have to tell my parents, which I'll freak out about. So I'm bringing her with me. I'm half way willingly to get help and the other half isn't so sure. But I'll take it, if my parents help me. And if they don't, and just tell me to shut up then I'm screwed.
I woke up this morning and just remember I posted this shit and then died. Spur of the moment type of thing. But oh well. For a few days I thought the hearing and seeing stuff went away, but it hasn't. And I'm so damn paranoid. I need to cut more than anything really, and I feel like killing a bitch 'cause I can't do it. It's killing me - not doing it.
Can someone tell me why 10 year old me started cutting in the first place?
Why this is boring, but I know I'll have quite the thing to write after Saturday. If I'm still alive, hopefully.