I do the same shit over and over, I don't want to, I promise god, my dad, my friends (like I have any), but I still do the bad stuff over again. I went for a run, trying to rehab my leg after my fucked up suicide try…can't even do that right. I went by the place where I tried and all the feelings came back. I tried hurting myself to stop the thoughts and memories, tried running the hill really hard. That usually gets all the bad out of me, but this time, just made it worser. So I did what I usually do to stop the noise, I find a guy. For those few moments, my brain stops hurting. And I think it is gods way of helping me cuz where I go, hardly anyone ever goes there, but today, a guy was there and he was willing to help. Like aren't all guys ready. Like it was a huge sacrifice for him. Never do they ask why, or what's going on, or lets talk. All they want is what they want. So, he left happy, I'm still crying, my blade always helps me feel better. My only true friend. I wonder if it would be ok if I showed a pic of my cuts? Hell, would anyone even care? Why does my dad have to suffer with a loser like me? He would be so much better off if I wasn't around. He would be free to live his life, smile and laff and get laid as often as he wants. Instead, he worries about me. That look on his face when I was in the hospital, I never ever want to see that look again. The hurt and pain and confusion. I never want to hurt him, but living or dying, all I bring is pain. Guess my mom was right. FML