Who am I?
currently in the bathroom, holding the razor in my hand trying not to cut, i’m eighty-something days clean and i can’t do it anymore. i’m not who i am anymore, i don’t even know myself anymore. it hurs, it really does, the pain i cause myself is more painful than the pain this razor causes. i’m. a. monster. and i can’t help but think of it every single day, think of how much i’ve changed and how much everyone i know hates it, hates ME, hates who i became. i want the old me back, please. i’ll do anything, but please don’t let me live every day with this ***** who i don’t even recognize and WILL NEVER recognize no matter what i do. my beliefs, behaviors, mindest, the way i talk, i laugh, my priorities, they’re all different now and they all changed so fast i can’t even get the hang of any of them anymore, gosh i’m suffering more than ever.