Hello all,

I have avoided this site for many months now fearing that I will be tempted to SI upon signing in. It has been, well, I don't know how much time since I last SI'd, and truthfully, I do not wish to find out. The fewer the days, the weaker the temptation. Each time my eyes come across my scars, I lie to myself, say it has been only a day since I last felt red run down my wrist and legs. I lie to myself to avoid a new wound. Today, however, the urge that so frantically takes hold when I see a sharp object, is not so strong. I feel well enough to encounter this site, along with my old blog entries. I will not go on to read the blogs of others because I think my lies would dissolve quickly and lead me to SI. 
For now, that is all. I hope you are all as well as you can be at this moment. It was nice being back, even if only for a few minutes.

Right there in the parking lot, while waiting for 11am to approach, and listening to music, I shoved all of my thoughts to encompass only one: my Relief. I brought the blade to my skin and a single wound lifted me to euphoria. Suicide Note by Johnette Napolitano was playing in my iPod. The song was enough to trigger a smooth flow of red down my wrist. I was too desperate and didn't realize it until I felt the sharp edge against my skin. I couldn't wait until after mentoring. I couldn't wait until tomorrow. How do I expect to go without it for longer than a month if a week seems eternal? Read more »

-LIstening to: Bleed Like Me by Garbage-

Maybe I'll change, was my thought, because mentoring someone involves one's own consciousness of rights and wrongs. Maybe my mentee will be the person I quit for. I ignored that voice that said, "Change for yourself, not others." I ignored it, which tells me the desire in me to quit is hardly existent. Still, I listened to my hypocritical self, I tend to do that, it doesn't bring the discomfort of trying. But this 12 year old girl seems uninterested in having a mentor, as soon as I saw that in her eyes I threw out my motivation to let go of the blade. If I have no one to stop for, why not continue my SI. Only logical. Only right. 
In this entry prevails satire, hypocricy. Yet, what have I to lose but what already is not mine? 
And I fear that for the rest of my days there will exist no reason to quit. Maybe that's why I cried during therapy today, because I realized that there will forever be a prison to contain me. That must be the reason. Why else?

71 degrees today, 72 tomorrow, 71 the day after, 75 on yet another day. I can feel the fear harboring in my insides. Very tightly it winds once and again around the pit of my stomach; presses against my strength. Soon it will be 80, then 90 degrees. To wear long sleeves in 100 degrees would be suicidal; reason enough to be rejected. If only it reached 200.