Shit. These are from last night. I posted on my phone and was showing my location. Someone kindly pointed that out to me. Kind of blows my cover. Had over a hundred hits already today. Hope it doesn't lead to anything. So I have deleted the last posts.
Don't Do It Now.
I've got all the stuff out to do it. I can't do it now. It's not in my plan. I am going to have to cut. I need to and make it deep so that I don't do anything else. Massive anxiety. Seeing faces in the window. They can't be there as the faces I'm seeing are people I know and in the window that's 3 stories up. I thought this may happen. Urges before their time. I think there's only one way to deal with them.
I ended up in the ed. Stupid me. Went too far with the cutting. But at least for now it wasn't anything else. It's packed to the seams in here. Trolleys in the middle of the dept. But I don't know why but they just seemed as though they fast tracked me. Now I feel terrible. The nurse said I may have to talk to someone. I don't want that. I can't do that. Not now.
Why do I go to the ed cos I have a razor stuck in my leg but not mention the numerous bits I've swallowed. It doesn't really make sense does it?
I must look intelligent. I just got asked if I was one of the doctors. I'm in joggers and a hoodie but hey. It's still a compliment.
What more proof do I need. This just proves it that I am a drain on society. The NHS shouldn't have to pay for me. To stitch me up time after time.
I thought earlier that I'd done really well. I'd not cut deep enough to require medical treatment since November. Ok so I'm swallowing etc. But not deep enough or nothing I feel I need a trip to hospital for. But then I had another thought.
What kind of weird fucked up way of thinking is that. Not cutting deep enough since November. And that's some kind of triumph. For fucks sake I cut. No matter how long it's been since I last did it that deep. I am weird. I am fucked up.
On the home straight now. They've removed the fb from my leg, re x-rayed and now just waiting for them to review them and come stitch me up. The doc was lovely. I could barely tolerate the injections. Which is weird considering I can mutilate myself.
I'm going to have a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea when I get home.