Harm

I get that weird feeling sometimes, or more like an instinct of sorts. That I want to destroy things that I love, or things that others love. And then I ask myself, why the hell would I want to do that? It's a horrible feeling really. But I don't think it's rare. I think a lot of people have felt the same way, though I don't quite understand why. But I do, on some level. As when I before cut my face, to destroy something that I liked, my face. Like the only part of my body that I don't hate.

If you look really really close you can still see the scar, but it blends in with the scars from my acne. I hate that. I don't want it to blend in, I want it to stand out. I just didn't fucking cut deep enough. Afraid to do too much damage. Always when I cut I was afraid to press down. I hated myself for my lack of courage which led me to cut even more. Pathetic, isn't it?

And still I want to cut. I want it almost every day. When I look down on my scarred arms and it triggers me to create more scars. To fill in the blanks. Go deeper than ever, press down harder. But I'm always so afraid of messing things up, and mostly I'm afraid of nerve damage.

It's my hands, you see. I don't want to risk losing sensation or mobility in them, so when I did self harm, it was only superficial, like scratches almost. Though I hated it when other people said it was scratches. I used a fucking blade, not my finger nails. I felt bad, like I failed and didn't cut deep enough for it to count.

I know that is just sad, but it's the truth. It's not uncommon for self harmers to compare wounds/scars and it can become a dangerous competition. To diminish my self harm wounds made me want to harm myself even more. I didn't do it right, I couldn't do it right, so I just did more instead. Maybe I could "win" with the most scars instead of the biggest?

I know it's wrong of me to think that way, and I'm not saying I'm proud of it. But that has been and is on my mind. That I'm a failure to self harm as with much else. I never understood that the only failure was my eagerness in getting worse instead of better. How can I not see that scratches are way better than deep lacerations?

I'm gonna try to stay "clean" over the summer at least, but from then on I don't know. The cravings have been extra strong this last week, and I suppose I've come across more triggers as well. Everything from reading about it (though I avoid such websites) to seeing a gif of someone playing with a scalpel.

Okay, this entry is becoming very long now. What do I even want to say? That I'm fighting to not fall back again, and now I seriously start to wonder for how long I can abstain from it. I can't even remember how my body looked like without the scars. If or when I start again I'll probably hide it, ashamed to have given in for it again.