so yea. i did it again. i've been doing it alot lately. with 2 on my left breast..and 2 on my right. one on my thigh. one on my stomach. that one (two) in the picture. and another across my wrist and the base of my hand.yea...addicting. and i can't quit. it's horrid. i'm scared someone will see them. if i wasn't afraid of the scars..and knew they'd disappear...i'd do it more. but..the scars don't fade. i was in a great mood today. like..a wonderful mood. then almost suddenly...it vanished. and i became miserable. and i wanted my life to end right then and there. and i don't even know why. i wish i did though. life would make so much more sense if i knew what was wrong. and i can't talk to my parents because they would flip if they knew i could or whatever. so..yea. i can't do that. i have no one to talk to. i can't talk to f*cking anyone. at all. and i want to. i want to talk to someone. it'd be nice to not have the urge anymore. it'd be very nice. i'd love to quit cutting. well..i guess i'd love it if it happened. because then i would be happy. not sad. and i want to be happy. i really do. i've actually been sorta happy for the past few days. even though i've been sick. i've been sorta happy. and when i'm happy, i don't want to cut. but..in the middle of the happiness somewhere sneeks in the sadness. and the thing that makes me want to take the razor against my wrist. or wherever. sometimes i love it. the pain, the pleasure. then sometimes i hate it. the scars, the cuts. it's horrible. i should've never started. i just need someone to talk to. who understands, and won't judge me..and won't tell my rents. i can't find anyone. i'm...alone. in this world of hate..i stand alone. and that scares me.