August 13th, 2017by Birdy

I hate myself for a numerous reasons. Somedays, I look down at myself and I take a deep sigh and say that I won’t hurt myself anymore. But then I do. Trying out alternatives that I read about online, did not work because they all seem stupid and my mind always goes back to the real thing. Maybe I should try something that wouldn’t leave a scar? That didn’t work either. In those moments I know that I will have some regrets later, but I do it anyways, as if I need something else to add to my list of punishments. Why does it matter if I hurt myself, I ask. Then, I remember how I felt in that moment I promised to not do it again. I keep it in. I am hidden. I feel like I live multiple lives around certain people. I am more skilled than I should be at quickly altering my mood in the presence of others. I have so many questions about myself that I wish I had the answers to. Not caring  about anything a majority of the time, means I have to push myself to care, for others. I know people care and love me, but it just doesn’t fix anything. I do this to myself.

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