“You can’t relapse after 9 months, that’d be crazy, come on girl!”

And so, burying myself under the covers, I closed my eyes & with a hint of desperation, tried to remember how the blade felt running across my forearms. To say I was successful would be an understatement. I felt the blade tear my skin like I really was doing it, I felt the sting & the pain. But the best part was the release. Imagination is an amazing thing. I pulled myself into my own mind & threw away over 9 months, without actually throwing it all away.. it felt great & even better not to wake up the next morning with bloodstained sheets & a bucket load of guilt, self-pity & in turn, a launch pad back into the spiral.

It’s been a while since I fantasized about self-injury. But it’s been forever since it felt as real, let alone as good as that. I am however so glad I didn’t do it for real. Fantasizing about it isn’t the healthiest thing in the world either but actually doing it after all this time? That’s even worse. Thank Christ I didn’t lose it enough as to forget everything…

I realize I’ve barely touched on the topic of self-injury in the past few months, which makes it sort of strange to be writing about it now. But I guess it just goes to show that even after 9 months, 1 week & 5 days, the urge is still there. I’m pretty sure it will still rear it’s ugly head when I have more than a year under my belt. I sure as hell wish it wouldn’t, but after 9 years of this, we’re not exactly strangers anymore…

Some days I wish I had never started counting the days. It would be so much easier to fuck up if I didn’t know how long it had been. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to pick myself back up afterwards too.

I’ve stayed away from my  old self-injury blogs & forums. I’ve stayed away from anything remotely triggering. I stopped reading the biographies & even stopped speaking to a select few who share my problem.

It’s not my first resort to the simple problems anymore, even the bigger ones… but throw something seriously nasty at me & damn.

What set me off that night?

It’s the same thing that derailed me back in April. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it. Other than leave, but I don’t want to leave. So I guess I’m screwed. So far I haven’t been able to nip it in the bud, mainly because I’m too scared of the repercussions that conversation/night will hold. Besides, has my unhappiness about it made any difference so far?  No, it hasn’t & I’m not sure it ever will.