Just like that, I'm back in a funk.
I don't understand how or why. I'm probably going to see All Time Low, Simple Plan, Marianas Trench and These Kids Wear Crowns in February. I should be fucking excited for that.
But no, my mind won't let me. Instead, I have to focus on how being a fat piece of lard does me no good except create more spaces for self harm. I have to feel cold, alone, anxious, and afraid. Most of all, I have to withstand the huge temptation to rip apart my razorblade and actually cut. I wish I wasn't afraid of the blade. It's more likely for me to just use my lame safetypin.
Maybe I do have BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder). I want to believe that I don't, but it said my chances were very high. It's not a professional diagnosis but it explains alot. I should probably get that checked out.
But I won't. Because it's like my self harm.... unknown.
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