Pleas and Cries

Entry No. 25

I've gotten better. I mean I feel better. I stopped cutting. That's better right? I don't think I'm completely better though.

The smallest disagreement with my parents makes me regress in a way. It makes me want to cut or just hurt. I feel everything. I don't hurt to feel just anything though. I hurt to feel better. I hurt to make the pain go away.

I don't like hurting though. Normally, I hate pain with a passion. The littlest things cause me pain, so I don't know why I seek it out when distressed. It's contradictory. It's weird.

I don't even know if I'm faking. I hurt myself, but then I wonder if I'm doing it for attention. I wonder if I'm doing it because it genuinely makes the pain go away. I don't know. I hate it.

I hate people that are fake. I hate the possibility that I might be fake. I want help, but I'm scared people will just think I want attention. That would make me fake.

I'm so aware of myself that I hate it, but at the same time I somehow know nothing. I just want to be okay. I don't want to start crying for no reason and be yelled at for it. I want to be normal.

I want someone that understands I want to be normal and help me become normal. That just makes me question what normal is. I don't know.