92 days without any self-injuring. (Over 3 months ... thats a good thing right?)

I miss it. I don't. I know what it will do to me if I fall off and start again ... but at the same time I really, really want to do it again.

I miss it.

I feel the same way emotionally as I did when I did it all those months ago. So have I really changed for the better? Or am I denying who I really am? Am I just stopping myself for everyone else's benefit?

I promised I would get help. And I did, sorta.

I promised I'd try to quit ... and I have a bit but I don't know if I can anymore. What would it matter, he's not around to make sure I'm 'good' so I really shouldn't feel obligated. Everyone else thinks I'm doing good enough and that I'm not going to slip up. But I feel like I'm drowning again and I really can't be honest with anyone. That would hurt them all too much. I trust them, but I don't deserve help because I don't accept it fully and that doesn't accomplish a *bleeping* thing.

I wish I understood myself. I wish I could help myself. I wish I was a better person.

I can't and I don't.

And that doesn't make me being depressed any easier to deal with.