"And what have I ever suffered. not one damn thing. No poetic privations or romantic diseases."
- Caroline Kettlewell [Skin Game]

This very line is rather close to how I feel.
When people confront you and ask you
"But why do you do that to yourself?"
There is really no good answer to give them, you tell them why you think you do it and they act as though they believe you, and they tell you some sort of sugary complement that makes your stomach churn and your legs feel weak.
It puts thoughts in your mind that make you second guess all you believe in.
This is why I prefer not to tell them.
I do at times, wish for people to know what I do. Sometimes perhaps even feel sorry for me,
but then I know that is the thing I do not wish to become.
I don't do it for attention.
When I see my friends and people who don't know, I think to myself;
"You think I'm so normal, you like me now, but if you knew what I do, you'd leave and run far away from me"
The sad reality of this addiction is that as soon as you start it's with you forever. It won't go away.
You must think I am obsessed with this.
Well I suppose in a way I am, but I use this blog as a way to relieve stress and anxiety. So think what you want, but if it really makes you think those things then don't come here. Besides most of you who read this know what you are getting into...

I think when people find out what I do they are really surprised by it. The look of shock runs briefly across their face, followed by a gasp of air.

Fuck sometimes I wish I could just leave all this stress and pressure behind me, fuck I can't do this, I am so behind in school, each time I try to do the massive essays and assignments my brain freezes and I can;t function, I hate myself for that. Why can't I just be able to do them? WHY THE FUCK AM I SO STUPID!?
WHY WHY!?
why does it have to be hard!?
I mean why have I always been the stupid one, the one who has to "try harder" or "can do better"?
I really hate myself sometimes. It's not fair, I am so challenged.
Sometimes I want to just disappear.
In grade ten I wanted to commit suicide, but it's apparent I didn't.
Sometimes I still want to, but I do have a few factors holding me back.
One being my love, I care for him so much more then I could ever care for myself.
Another being my sister, I would never want to hurt her or scar her.
but I think thats about it really.
Which I suppose sounds rather dreary.
It's not as though I walk around with a somber expression on my face, many people think I am just fine, the happy, giddy, crazy, over social Morgan.
I suppose I still am, but I feel as though I am looking at myself, the self I once was.
sometimes I feel as though I am watching myself.
I fear I am loosing myself, as though I am being torn apart by every little thing.