Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life! I had a counseling appointment and a doctor’s appointment! It sucked. It's just really hard for me to sit there and talk about my feelings. I try to just talk about my life at the moment. I know that you are supposed to talk about the things that you don't want to talk about. But it's hard. And I really don't want to talk about it. I just want to pretend that I am strong and that I can deal with life. I have built up a tough shell-I guess that's what you'd call it. I want to look like I am strong and tough even if I’m not. My counselor and I, we haven't really talked about my past not really processed it. I try to put it off. I wouldn't say that I want to talk about it. I just want to process it and make it so that it doesn't hurt so bad to think about it. But talking about my past and bad things makes me sad and then bad things happen at home because I’m in a bad mood. I just wish that I could make it go away. But I would be as strong as I am now. That’s what I keep telling myself but I’m not really all that strong. I’m not at all. I know that I have learned a lot and that I’m very smart but I really don't know if I am strong.

Last night at work it was really bad. I was thinking about cutting my arm up all day and then when I was cutting open the salad dressing boxes with a razor blade I placed it on my skin, the knife. I pressed down not enough to break the skin just enough to leave a faint red line. I did it again and again. Each time imagining that my arm was dripping with blood. Feeling the warm drop of blood making a path down my arm, warming a trail of skin. On the way home from work, I was thinking of how awful my day was and how stupid I am and how I suck so much! I scratched my wrist with my nails. I was just so mad at my self for being so foolish and stupid. I kept thinking about throwing myself in front of oncoming cars. The fear and adrenalin running through my body.

Once I got home I went to my room and sat on my bed I quietly looked though these medieval books that I had rented from the library. I couldn't concentrate on them though. My mind was to full. I wanted to feel the beauty and the pain I wanted to give myself in full to it let it take over my body and mind. Let it steal me away. I wanted the rush and the beauty and stillness in side me! I grabbed my piece of glass that I keep by my bed and quickly with out even thinking I ripped it across my skin tearing my skin open and reveling the flow of blood come to wash away all my pain and sorrow. It wanted to release me of my pain. I quickly slashed three more cuts into my skin. I sat back and watched the river of blood and I silently cry wishing that I hadn’t done it, wishing that it hurt wishing I could feel it awful physical pain to punish myself for cutting! But I knew I could not have controlled the pain with out cutting. But I was stupid. I left the lights on the door unlocked. I cleaned my arm off with a paper towel and sat there looking at it. I welcomed the burning, the warmth. Then my mother came in I pretended that she had scared my and hit the paper towels but she saw the blood. She asked where it was from and I just sat there and did not say a word. I hated her for interrupting me. I wanted this time to my self and now she was seeing me. I just sat there until she left saying that I was destroying my life. I cried. After a while I got up took my pills and then went to sleep.