Well. I honestly don’t know when I was last on the blog, so, I guess I’ll just give a “full-report”. I had been injuring again at the beginning of the summer, just in time for my 1 1/2 year anniversary. But then after I went on a school trip to Hawaii, things definately seemed to look brighter. I only had one freak-out there where I almost did it, but my teacher was able to help me through it thankfully.
But tonight, things changed. Great, 2 months pretty much, down the drain. And all over a freaking boy that I met at latin convention. I miss him so much, but he lives in Wisconsin, and I live in Ohio. I cannot BELIEVE that I cracked because of A BOY who I knew for one week. I know better than that. I always consider myself to be the mature one, and now, I’m no better than the typical lovestruck teenager. Wonderful. I love fufilling stereotypes.
I don’t really want to tell anyone, and I don’t think I will. Sure, if I get to the point where I’m injuring often, I’ll tell someone. But this only happened once, and I just want to keep it that way. I don’t want to be sent off to a rehab place (my parents always theaten that they’ll do that if they find out I SI’d again), and I don’t want anyone to worry about me. I hate talking about myself and my problems to friends, cause I always feel so selfish and that my problems really aren’t that big. Like, besides the whole self-injury thing, my issues really aren’t all that big. I mean, compared to some of my friends’ lives, I have absolutely no excuse to be injuring. My life is GREAT compared to theirs’. So why can’t I just enjoy it, and be thankful, instead of acting like a spoiled brat who isn’t ever happy with what she has.