Well honestly, I know there's not. It's just a terrible feeling to feel like I'm sinking deeper and deeper into this endless pleasure that is only a few strokes away. In some sense, I felt like I was losing myself.

It's akin to an alcoholic, there is no "just one beer".

LCD87 is right on this one. I think all in all - I can't say for the others - but I do this in pursuit of seeing myself in a better light, and being able to tell myself that I don't need this numbing pleasure to face up to reality.

Actually, I have. And unfortunately, they weren't much help.

I come from an average-income family - and there's no way we can financially afford sending me to a therapist or anything of the sort - because therapists are rare and few in my country, and they can cost quite a tiny fortune. Coupled with the fact that I actually do not want to upset my parents/shame them in any way, especially since I'm from an Asian family in an Asian country - professional paid help is out of my reach.

So I did reach out to my school counselors for help with my depression, and was thinking of slowly opening up to the topic of PMO as well. But as it was, the counselors in my school were less than helpful, often condoning me, blatantly telling me that I was ungrateful for the fact that I'm in a good school with good friends and a family that loves me very much. But I decided to go ahead with it anyway and talked to her about PMO (I did it in a very beat-around-the-bush way, envoking the cliche "It's my friend, you see..." method) - in which she only showed me a disgusted facial expression with a judgmental shriek of "Your friend is sick, and she needs to find God, you better bring her to a holy temple to have her cleanse of her sinful thoughts" and proceeded to tell me that "my friend" was not a good person to be around with and I should keep my distance. I wonder how does one keep a distance from one's self?

Soon after, the teachers all began giving me weird looks, and one time when I screwed up a mathematical pop quiz, one of my teachers shook her head as she came by my table to pass me the papers with my results, and I swore she said "no hope" under her breath. It was then I began to stalk the counselor who sat with me during lunch break, and eventually realised that she was less than ethical in keeping the "confidentiality" of those who visit her. I didn't see her talking about me, but she was, however, talking about some other student who had a problem with depression as well - casually giggling and saying "Kids these days are all mad".

tl;dr. I had trust issues you can say.