Yeah it’s been 30 days since I’ve cut. Yep it’s been 44 since my second suicide attempt. I’m so much better, aren’t I? I’m so happy and stress free. I’m off all medications and haven’t picked up a bong or pipe to self-medicate myself either. And I don’t turn to a razor anymore to cure my pain. Or at least help it. Go me. Yay. It’s all so good. But tell me this, if I’m so happy and great why do I want to kill myself right now? Why do I crave the sharp and burning sensation of a razor so badly? Why do I hate myself so much? Why have I cried myself to sleep the past couple of nights? I’m not depressed. I’m not bi-polar. I’m not borderline personality. I’m normal. Happy even. Good. Healthy. Awesome. Yeah that’s me, but what happens now that I know it’s all not really true on the inside? Where do I go? What do I do? I don’t want to end up in the hospital again. So I guess it’s either just go to sleep and try to feel better for tomorrow and just wipe the tears and try to sleep or figure out a fail-proof plan to truly be gone. But I won’t. I’m not going to give up. I’m going to stay strong. Strong for my baby sister. For my best friend in need. For my dog even. For myself. Even if my brother, mum, or dad doesn’t need me. I need me. And maybe someone else out there needs me or will. So for now, I’ll breathe. Sleep. And ignore those cravings and urges. And get this, a craving isn’t supposed to last longer than 10 minutes so this cutting craving will soon perish and I will win this evil war my sick mind has created. I will win it. And everyone else will too.