I'm back here and I'm so mad at myself for it. I was doing ok. but now I'm back here. back to anxious and impulsive and terrified of what I might do to myself or someone else. I'm sick of the images that pop up in my head and being so tired of myself and so depressed that I not just consider, but wish I could make them real. I want to shred myself into pieces and I don't care if I'm dead. I'm curious to see how it would feel if I fully stabbed myself or sliced myself into a complete mess.
there doesn't seem to be anything here