People always say it’s easier to write their feelings, so i thought i’d give it a go. I’ve never done this before, and am sure no one will comment, but if you do, thank you :)I’ve been in love before, and the worst thing is that as much as i want to hate him for everything that happened afterwards, i will still always love him. He lead me to self harm, from making me feel guilty once about an argument we’d had, and showing me his injuries to show ‘how much more he cared.’  I’ve always been the most squeamish person i know, but when i knew i’d inflicted that i made myself do it to punish myself. It scared me so much, but once i’d finally done it, i felt a sense of relief. And that relief has never passed, I just injure more. After i came back from holiday he put me out, i guess words really do mean nothing. And what hurts the most is how happy he is now, and even after all this time i can’t feel that. Self harms the only thing i can understand in everything, the only thing i can control.But that was a year ago, and i had been clean for about 4 months. For the first time I was starting to feel happy, really happy, deep down. And i’d met someone else who was perfect in every way, and i was reassured by his effort that this was going to last. Well, as soon as we’d had sex he told me that he was too messed up, and after his past experiences he can’t trust again, and was pushing away everyone to stop from being hurt.At first i didn’t believe him, but after our 3hr phone call, with him telling me (eventually) all about his experiences, i started to understand him. But the truth is is that i know that i wouldn’t have hurt him, that i know what it feels like, and yet every time i start to fall for someone it gets taken away. I wanted to yell at him, and tell him how lousy and pathetic he’s made me feel, but the truth is, i can’t resent his feelings and insecurities, which i too own. I just wouldn’t have let this go over them.And this time wasn’t fair, because i was being punished for representing something i wasn’t. He said he wished he’d met me when he wasn’t so messed up, but surely someone who’s been battling with s.i. for over a year now, and still has scars all over would understand what it’s like to be scared. But this is how it goes. I don’t ever believe that happiness can be found through that love, someone must always suffer.  And, yet again, the walls are up, and it seems i can’t remember anymore what it was like to have hope, trust and self respect.