Yesterday I ate dinner and began to feel the disgust close around my throat and made the mistake of looking in the mirror. I saw someone disgusting, ugly and not worth anything. So I cut. Like I have been for several years. These self-esteem issues are making me feel like I'm dying on the inside. Hell, I ain't got a good reason for this self-hatred. Yeah, some stuff in my life has gotten me down but those things aren't the main reason. I have a pretty good life I guess. No one is shoving hypodermic needles through my ears for fun, I am not getting beat or anything. I just feel so alone. I'm surrounded by people who think they know me but they don't. They have a perfect picture of who they think I am but they don't see the cuts, scars, the history, the thoughts, the pain that I brought upon myself and relished. A part of me loves the pain, believes that the blood running down from the cuts are what redeem me for being alive. And part of me wants to quit. Not a big part of me, but it's there.
I think that suicide is an easy way out. Not only that, but i'm afraid of dying, afraid that I'll miss out on greater experiences. But I wish I could express myself without being thrown out of the house. Without being dubbed a failure. I don't want pity, I don't want to talk to a therapist or psychologist, I don't want attention. I want to talk my thoughts. My feelings, I want to be ME. But I can't. Not yet. And it hurts.