I'm strong enough now to admit it... I think.
It had been burning a hole in my chest, tearing at my mind, the feeble bands of mental rubber trying desperately to contain the need.
I was so lost. So angry. So hurt. So ashamed. So scared. So confused. So conflicted. So frustrated.
So needing to reach out and just ask for help. So confused about who to turn to, a friend, my boyfriend, C or T... embarrassed and ashamed to even admit it.
I thought if I just ignored it, it would go away. Of course that is never the case. I KNOW this, yet I keep repeating. I never learn. We're supposed to learn from our mistakes, why don't I?
I always stop myself when reaching for help, I always hear over and over again that I'm worthless and don't deserve it. I stop and think of everyone else and their own problems they have to deal with and feel guilty for even considering weighing them down with mine. They are my friends, and I am always there for them no matter what, but I don't expect them to be there for me... really, how is that a friendship?
I've failed myself. I've failed C. I've failed T.
I burnt my arm.
I lied to my boyfriend when he saw the blister and asked what happened. I lied to my best friend.
The shame is overwhelming.
I burnt my arm with a cigarette to stop the pain, the hurt, the sadness, the anger, the shame, the frustration, the confusion.
I so desperately want to burn and cut again.
I did it again...