But I have this overwhelming urge to cut tonight. And I don’t want to. But I do want to. I don’t because I don’t want to be a disappointment, and I don’t what to upset her. But I do because for some reason it’s all I can think about right now. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t cut because I want to kill myself. I cut because it’s like this sick drug addiction. It’s no different than heroin. I can’t get it off my mind. I crave it. I crave the pain, the blood, the constant reminder afterward. But I can’t put her through that again. So I’m stuck, internally conflicted. It’s eating away at me. I want to cry but I can’t because if I do, my dad will question me. What would I tell him? I don’t even know why I want to cut. There’s not really a reason for me to. I’m sure if I thought about it, I could find a reason though. In fact it’s actually easy to find one. Two. Three. Maybe… Maybe I don’t want to get better. If the only thing holding me back is the fear of hurting someone else, then… I don’t even know what that means for me. Part of me feels disgusted with myself for the thought of putting her through this again. But part of me thinks it shouldn’t matter. It does matter though. And I don’t know what to do. I was doing so well. I had gone over a month without cutting. And then I relapsed. And now I’m going on two weeks. I wish that was enough to motivate me to stay strong. But I don’t think it is. I can’t think.