Heute ist ein guter Tag, um wieder rückfällig zu werden…
Heute ist ein guter Tag, um wieder rückfällig zu werden…
Age: body is twenty-two, but i’m stuck at fifteen
Age started: when the body was nine
Label yourself: pastel-goth, goth-ish, emo-ie?
How long have you been cutting?: thirteen years
Favorite tool?: razor blades from pencil sharpeners
Where (place) do you cut?: at home or work
Do you have to hide your whole arms?: when they’re new, i do when i go to work. when they’re scars, i don’t.
Do you have to wear long sleeves/pants all the time?: no. everyone at work knows about it because it’s too hot to cover my scars all the time and my scars are extremely visible.
Do you cut on your stomach or chest?: i’ve cut in both places, but chest is too easy for infection because i sweat a lot, and stomach just makes my stomach pain hurt more.
Are your arms, legs, or other body parts covered in scars?: both arms from shoulders to wrists, thighs, hips, stomach, a few on my neck, a couple on my face
What’s your excuse when someone asks what happened?: mostly stick with cat or say none of your business
Have you ever been hospitalized because of your cutting?: psychiatric wards, yes. i have cut so bad that i had to be rushed to urgent care though
Of the top of you head, how many scars do you think you have?: well over 500. impossible to count because a lot of it is scars on top of scars
Do you have diagnosed depression, bipolar, or BPD?: persistent depression disorder and borderline personality disorder
Who knows you cut?: my family, friends, my fiance, coworkers
Have you ever been caught cutting?: yes, my father walked in on me when i was in the closet at thirteen
Have your parents ever confronted you about a bloody sleeve/towel?: yes. Mommy dearest decided she wanted to do my laundry when i was sixteen. she found a thing of gauze and yelled at me and told me to “try harder”
Did you have a good childhood?: no. my immediate family was extremely abusive up until the point i finally moved out. they still are whenever we talk.
Why do you cut?: it’s an addiction to me now. sometimes it helps when i’m too angry to deal with anything else, or if i want to stop feeling so depressed.
Have you talked to a therapist/counselor?: many
Do you want to stop, but can’t because it’s an addiction?: no. it’s a massive comfort for me
Do you like cutting?: love it
How many times have you tried to commit suicide?: multiple. tried slicing my veins open vertically, tried beating my head in with a kitchen spoon, tried suffocation, overdosing
What are your views on cutting/self-injury?: if you’re gonna do it, do it, but take care of them afterwards.
Do you like watching movies on self-injury?: yea
Do you like pictures of self-injury?: not really. if the wounds are extremely wide, it makes me feel sick and makes my veins scream
Have you ever taken pictures of your scars/cuts?: yes, i find them aesthetically pleasing
Do you listen to anything when you’re cutting?: not really. i like quiet and concentration
Have you ever needed stitches?: yes, back in september of 2019
Do you dream about cutting?: sometimes
What do you use to bandage your cuts?: gauze or nothing
This loneliness will be the end of me
i am literally on a roller coaster of mania, depression and destruction and i. want. OFF THIS RIDE!!!
Everything is my fault. From my meager existence to the trauma and obstacles in my life. With every breath I breathe I can feel the world destroying itself because of me.
I am a failure. I am worthless. I am broken and can never be fixed.
Nothing I do is good enough. Nothing I say can make things better.
I’ll never be enough. I’ll never be able to do enough.
The only way I can make the world a better place is to put a stop to my existence and stop my own suffering.
Living is a chore when there’s nothing to live for.
I am meant to be alone.
I am meant to be by myself never to find my home.
I am meant to waste away and I’m reminded when my stomach groans
I am meant to be forgotten
I wonder why I fight and how far I’ve gotten
I wonder why I even try when every single part of me is rotten.
I am meant to be broken
Love, lust, and everything I leave unspoken
All come to a head when I am not enough and I am less than a Chuck E. Cheese game token.
Hey, my mom forced me to go to the hospital because she thought that I had a mental disorder. I got a pre diagnostic, wich is borderline disorder. I need help, I still burst out in tears everytime I think about it. Anyone knows websites that I could consult or good Tumblr blogs about this? I feel horrible and I need some positivity.
Los miedos por momentos me atacan, parecen pesadillas pero sin dormir y en mi cabeza…me destruyen un poquito mi alma y la fuerza de voluntad que me tiene aun aqui… la verdad me tengo miedo a veces, por que? Porque no se que día ni porque razón y motivo pueda yo descontrolarme nuevamente, malograr todo, sacar algunos pensamientos malos y un poco obsesivos y ni decir paranoicos de mi cabeza… y que al final me arrepienta.. lo que conllevaria a mi muerte ya que no soportaria vivir si es que al hacerlo pierdo esto que es importante para mi… muchas veces muy normal y otras muy extraña, muy loca o muy sana… es que siento que por momentos no soporto esta condición… este estar viva pero sentirme un poco muerta, este parecer fuerte pero estar tan debil… es que hasta el más minimo roce puede producirme dolor… lo malo es que no se cuando podria pasar esto, cuando puedo estar aqui o en el pasado… llorando o riendo… me queman mis lagrimas, que curioso… siempre tan asi… en ocasiones desearia estar normal pero en otras pienso que es lo mejor tener esto, que casi es como un don… pese a todo… como dije, no quiero malograr lo que más amo con mis cosas, miedos, pensamientos y acciones impulsivas… porque este amor es lo más preciado para mi… porque esa persona es lo más importante para mi ❤🐇
gosh I am so passive-aggressive lately
my poor boyfriend
I dont know what’s going on with me
I feel myself slipping. I feel my mind swirling and churning. You don’t care anymore do you? I was able to finally burst that perfect little rose bubble and I ruined it all. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I wasn’t so sensitive and that I could make it up, but all I can do is sit and suffer and try to be quiet as once again you go to sleep without giving me a second thought.
I’m dying can’t you tell? Didn’t you see the 12 fucking messages I sent you? I said I’m sorry but sorry is never enough. What I’m trying is never enough.
I’m sorry… please let’s make up and go back to how things were before. Let’s start over and pretend we just met. Please?
Borderline personality. Disorder…
Me when I split on my fp because he didn’t talk to me
My dumbass: gets jealous of a fucking video game.