Spoiler - click to show.
I'm going to be honest. This is the first time, I believe, that I've told anyone from Notebook about what happened That Night(tm). Last Wednesday, I lost three chickens to a mistake I made, and while I still partially blame myself for what happened, that's not the point. I know I made a promise to someone here that I wouldn't cut and yet here I am, with an almost fully healed or fully healed cut on my wrist.
I swear I didn't mean to, I swear I didn't think I'd draw blood. That wasn't my intent, I swear. All I wanted was to have some semblance of control of the punishment I recieved, I didn't need or want yelling, or screaming, or more blame. No, what I needed was pain. Physical punishment, for what I did. I lost track of time, and look where that got me? Nowhere, and I killed three chicks indirectly.
And here I find myself, yet again, terrified that I'll lose control and slap those headphones on, blocking out everything including pain and cut again, because I really, really, want to right now. I need control. Control over these thoughts and worries that plague my mind and they're breaking me. It's so hard right now, and honestly maybe it'd be easier if I could have some sort of instant death pill. Or some sort of instant passing-out pill. Oh, what I'd give to just not think, to remove all these thoughts from my head. And sleep isn't an option, because it requires me to listen to those thoughts longer than I'd like to.
My mind is a scary place, y'all. It's so scary and sometimes I worry that I'm too broken, broken beyond recovery. That I'll never be able to get better, because there is no hope left. I've gotten so bad that all the hope and ways to get better are just… gone and there's no way to get them back. I think I'm going to try Leo's rubber band coping method in a bit again, and I hope it helps this time. I really fucking hope it helps this time, because it sure as fuck didn't work last time, considering where I am now.