Every day things are harder, in a way I feel good cause it seems like I have learned to control my urges to cut, but then again, is like everything that happens could be a trigger. It disgust me to see my scars, to know that I am weak, but I am also proud to have them, cause they make me realize how strong I can be.
It is not easy explaining to someone when they see my arm, why it looks like that, most times I just hide my arm, pull down my sleeve and change the conversation but I can see them trying to figure out what happen to me that made me do this.
I don't lie, and to those that I have given a response it has always been somewhere around the lines of "its been hard". I love my life with all of it difficulties and I can promise that I won't cut again but if it does happen, I will cross that bridge when I have to.

I guess the name of this blog explains itself, it is a journal of my feelings, my emotions and whenever I feel like I need to share, or just write about it, this right here is therapy.

Lately ive felt worthless, like a piece of shit, is like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, nothing really works out. Every day I look at my arm and feel disgusted and ashamed for being so weak, but also at times im proud of my scars, they are proof that in a way I am a fighter, they are proof that I have been able to move past the depression.

I feel empty, I feel like I don't have a purpose, at the beginning of every year I make up my mind and decide to be productive, I am keeping that part of the deal, however is like what I thought would help doesn't. At time I feel this huge pain inside that feels like its ripping me apart, is like I cant handle it.

I have been in the situation of being on the floor staring at a razor, shaking and convincing myself its the last time, just once more to make me feel better. 

When that shiny razor syncs in my skin is such a relief, such pleasure, at that moment everything will be ok, but it aint...