To my friends … I love you so much, all of you, you have no fucking idea. I am also sorry, so fucking sorry, for so many fucking things. You guys are my everything, you keep me going, never forget that.
I don’t know what I woud do without you.
Send me a ask if you want the url. This blog will slowly stop being used, because I need a private place for my deepest thoughts. So my new blog will be my private one.
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I’m going to tell you a story, when my cutting was at its worse I was staying in Liverpool. To visit family. One day I was looking after my 4 year old cousin. Naturally as she was a child I didn’t hide my cuts, and she saw them. And she goes, “did Laura have an accident?”. I just look at her, and all I could do was nod. And she looks at each of my scars, my cuts, there was about a good 20 of them at the time, and she kisses each and every one of them. And she goes “Laura must be more careful next time”. I nearly burst out into tears as she then jumped off my knee and skipped away. Her total innocence just took me away. She then goes into the sweet jar and gives me a lolly and told me to cheer up. Because of her I recovered for 8 months straight, I would carry a photo of her around me all the time to keep me remaining strong. For those 8 months I thought of her. I regret slipping back into my old state. But at least I had those 8 months.
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The last few days have been shit. I had the worst dream I think I have ever had. I know it didn’t happen, but the bases of it were like my past, and it felt real. I was on my bed with him, he ordered me what to do. I was sitting there; I didn’t react to his disgusting demands. Instead I looked him in the eye, I searched for a glimpse of humanity, a shimmer of hope. Hope that I would be let off this time; all I found was a heart of ice. I then told him I would give it a go. This kills me inside; it makes me feel physically sick that I would give in to such a cold being. I told him I couldn’t do it, I just sat there looking at it, and then the worst bit happened … I apologised. I started crying, resting my head of his weak skeletal shoulder, I just kept on saying “I’m so sorry, I tried, I really did I just can’t do it.” I hate that the dream me apologised. Sure it was only a dream but no matter what the situation; conscious or unconscious it is wrong to apologise.
I am now feeling nothing. I can’t cry, I can’t yell, I can’t strike out; all I can do is sit. I really want to hurt myself, I don’t care about relapsing right now. To top it off I have a cut along the palm of my hand which is pathetically triggering. I used to cut there quite often because in winter gloves would cover it and it wouldn’t scar, so the pain of it and the appearance of it make me crave what I no longer have. I haven’t stopped for myself; I have done it for my friends. People always say you will relapse if you aren’t doing it for yourself … maybe I have an excuse to fail?
Just imagine the possibilities…
(Source: just---imagine, via dreaming-and-wishing)
