After the midnight breakdown Chris and I had together, an event that seems so long ago now, I tried not to hurt myself again. However, I found myself doing odd, little s.i. things instead.without actually realizing any of it. But I tried, maybe not my hardest, but I tried. Chris promised me that he would not break up with me if I slipped up and broke my promise to him. This, I think, made me think that it was okay to harm myself because I would not lose him; it was fine. Well, my thoughts gradually got worse, my temptations harder to resist, my urges stronger. For little things that would have been easy to deal with before, they all seemed like the perfect trigger, and everything seemed like a reasonable reason to hurt myself. If I dropped my ketchup in the lunch line, I’d want to drop everything else. I could not control my thoughts any longer. Eventually, a few weeks after our talk, I gave in. I felt so terrible about it because I did not even cry when I did it. I actually smiled a bit. I did not talk to Chris for a day because the guilt set in. He figured that something was wrong, but I would not talk. I told him, and he broke up with me. Okay, it was not just like that; he was really nice and trying to be soft about it; he said he just couldn’t deal with it, and his ex-girlfriend self-inflicted and it forced him into a depression. It took about twenty minutes for it to set in, which made me feel stupid and slow. But once the realization hit, I cried. Six hours worth of tears I sat in my room bawling my eyes out. Oddly, nobody came in. I share a room with my sister. Nobody noticed that Jen was not there. But none of this mattered to me at the moment. All I knew was that the pain in my chest was NOTHING I could ever inflict on myself. It’s been a bit over four weeks now, and everything has been getting worse. My dad eventually came in and tried talking to me. He took my phone and said that if I wanted it back I had to tell him what’s wrong. This pissed me off and I cried more. I was not thinking about anything except this pain. And Chris. Always Chris. So I let it all out. I told my dad that Chris broke up with me because I hurt myself again. I got my phone back, but also a visit from my mom and her friend (who happens to be a RN nurse), deprivation of wrist warmers, and a session with a counselor. None of this made it better. I S.I. more and more. I can’t stop. It’s getting out of hand, but I can’t stop. I will still have a broken heart and a broken mind. I will always go back to a broken body.