It feels like life can be a game leaving me thinking that all of this here in this world is so superficial; why anyone would continue to do anything – what’s the purpose? Why do I continue to take the medications that are suppose to make me feel better, or why do I continue to attend therapy sessions? Yes, it all helps for now, but what happens when I’m done with therapy and medication? I’ve returned to self – injuring again, and although it happens less frequently now, it’s something that I don’t foresee ever going away completely. Even when I wasn’t engaged in my main form of self – injury, a lesser form took its place for times when the urge was too much. It’s a crutch. Something that I’ve leaned on far too long. I am ashamed that after all these years, I sill self – injure. I’m confused about why it is I still feel so detached from life to such an extent that I can no longer see a purpose. Life seems so superficial; so contrived. We live, struggle though the materialism that is now life, and then die.
It’s these moments of clarity when I’m reminded of how self – injuring becomes so alluring. How other addictions can become so consuming. It’s easier to mask or avoid those difficult moments of detachment than it is to endure them. Or it’s the opposite – because of these moments, I self – injure just to feel something, feel real, feel less superficial.
I feel alone and hopeless.