Random, SH, 28th March

I was cooking and managed to cut my hand. Nothing major it just stings. And I should be washing up and plastering my hand, which I can’t be bothered for. It makes me wonder. What it’ll be like to do this intentionally. I haven’t gone there in so long. Cutting never worked. It did at one point and then at some point in time I realized that however much I’d cut it would never be enough. I’d sat there with a razor for half an hour. And it couldn’t be enough.

I still tried a few more times to see if maybe it would help. It didn’t. I gave it up then. It was pointless. I went back to it again once probably around a year ago. And again I realized how pointless it was. Pointless, for, nothing could be enough. I couldn’t give myself what I needed through cutting. However hard I tried. Although, other forms of self harm gave me more. But even those weren’t ever enough. It’s kinda, if I start there’s no end. I’ve sat with what I’ve used to burn myself for an hour or more at a time. I would’ve sat there for another hour if I hadn’t laughed at the absurdity of it. There is seriously no end. As in nothing is ever enough. So right now, I’m wondering what it’d be like. To self harm. Cut, or burn, or, anything really. I’ve other things that I’ve never properly used to mess around with at hand that I can. Or what it’d be like to use, painkillers – codeine, cocodamol. Whichever. Whatever. Any of it would work.

I haven’t thrown up in ages. (Edit: my definition of ages in this case is maximum a month, as I went back to it for a week. It’s been more like half a year since I stopped using cocodamol, went back to eating normally, and mostly haven’t sh’d since. I used codeine for a bit but it also was pointless.) Mostly haven’t even thought about throwing up or messing with food – despite the fact that I gained a lot of weight recently and hate it. It scares me…… Like, what’s happening to me? Am I crazy? It’s different. It may be different in a good way, and it may only be the slightest of differences, but I don’t care if it’s good or bad or how minor it may be. Change is negative per se. Even if the changes are positive. I don’t want change. Change scares me. Change is bad.

So now I’ve managed to liberally cover my hands with cuts. No one will think twice if there are some more there. They’ll just think I’m even clumsier during cooking than I am. I don’t think I really plan on self harming at all at the moment. I don’t know what will or won’t be later but for this moment I won’t. I actually enjoy the okayness I’m living with. I’m not really interested in messing it. It’s fun to get a little bit of the colour back. It’s fun to live in the world – although I wish the world would taper down its intensity a little. I do want to fantasize about it though. I do wish I could go back there as a one off with it having no consequences to my life.

I want the world I know back…

So long,

Eliza

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