Slipped Up

I knew it was too much of a good thing to think i'd never hurt myself again.

I guess the only positive is that i'm restricted as to where i can do it.

Why?! Why did i have to do it? I was doing ok, i was doing good for me. It'd be nearly 3 weeks. 3 weeks free of SI. No fresh scars. No i've fucked up. Back to square one. Back to being a fucking failure again.

I think i have a doctors appointment tomorrow but i've lost my appointment card so who fucking knows. There's nothing they can do anyway. Upping the trazadone will jus zombify me. Though maybe that isn't the worst of things. I don't want to be concious. Cos if i'm concious i'm thinking. If i'm concious i'm feeling. If i'm concious i'm hurting. I just want somthing to knock me out. Something to numb these stupid fucking feelings that have taken over my mind.

I feel bad for him. This is what he has to come home to. Why can't i be the person i was when we first met? This isn't fair on him. He has to keep picking up the sodding pices from my fallout. I'm a selfish bitch for letting him do that. I want him to be happy. Really happy.

I don't know if i can make him happy anymore.

I know i keep saying it, but i can't stop myself thinking of how i'd be better off dead. You're probably thinking stop going on about it and do something about it. But i can't. I have to be certain. If i try and kill myself again, i will succeed. That's why i have to be 110% certain. Cos i've had my second chance and i won't get another. Its like i have to keep killing myself as a last resort. For when there is no future. For when i'm certain i will never get better and be normal. For when everyone else has given up on me.