one more week.

One more week until I’m 18 and then maybe all this shit will get better. Over the weekend my friend and I got really messed up and she forced me to show her my razors and then threw them out. She was too messed up to remember that she did that, and the next day I went digging through the trash to find them. I found 2 old ones that I no longer use but not the one I had been using recently. I figured she had probably taken that one with her or something, so I gave up and took it as a sign that I should stop with the cutting. Well today getting out of the shower, I was walking to my dresser for clothes and stepped on something….the razor. I  don’t know how it got there or why I hadn’t seen it until now. But it sat there calling for me and I picked it up and hesitated. I thought about getting better but right now…cutting seemed so much better. I tore into my skin again and put the razor back into my hiding place. It almost worries me that I don’t feel ashamed. But my friend did tell me she was going to talk to my mom after my birthday about getting me help. That worries me. Because like I said it’s a week away. I need these cuts to heal and these scars to fade so I have no proof that I’m self harming. I just keep hearing my moms words play in the back of my mind over and over, “If I ever find out that you’re cutting, I won’t think twice about sending you away.” Maybe being put away and being shut out from the world is all I need.