So I failed… not surprised really. I’m a failure in everything I do. I can’t do anything right. I made a promise with my therapist that I would go for a walk today at 6pm… and I didn’t. She says that exercise is one of the best cures for depression. How is someone who is depressed meant to get the motivation to get out of bed, let alone go for a walk? I honestly do not understand.

 

I’m afraid that she will go mad at me, so I might have to lie and say I did it. I can’t handle people being disappointed. I disappoint myself enough, without disappointing anyone else. I know I shouldn’t lie to a therapist, but I don’t see myself having any other choice. I wish everything was just easier.

 

I wonder if my therapist realizes how much it physically hurts walking. Maybe I should mention that the way my knee is, it really hurts soo much. I’m soo sick of it. I want soo much to have a new leg. It’s a kind of catch 22, I need to get my knee fixed to be able to walk and stand without pain, and if I loose weight that will help with the pain. This is impossible. I mean I have tried the normal “gym” way, doing the treadmill and trying to suffer through the pain. I can’t ride the exercise bikes at all, as it feels like my knee cap will come out, and just outright feels uncomfortable on my knee. I can’t use the rower machines as they hurt also, the cross-trainers; forget it, same problem as the bikes. I have tried the pool option, water aerobics and lap swimming. My knee cap dislocates when I swim also. I just do not know what to do. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. It’s pretty bad when I have a pair of crutches that I have purchased in my house.

 

Some days I hate the pain. Some days I love it. I love it because I know I deserve it. I have done so many horrific things in my life. I’m worthless, I’m a nothing. Some days I see suicide as a reasonable option, all things considered.

 

Today I have had and intense feeling of wanting to cut. I have looked at my blades all day. I have even gone as far as opening the case where I keep them. The only thing that has stopped me is the fear of my little sister walking in on me. I don’t want her to see something as grotesque as me cutting myself. I often cut my feet. It’s something I have been doing for many, many years. I sit there and cut the skin of the heels of my feet. I don’t usually bleed much, because I have become so good at it, but it does make it uncomfortable to walk. I don’t mind though, because I know I deserve it, and It’s a way of reminding me of my horrible self while I’m walking around doing ordinary things.

 

I have no alcohol here, so I don’t know how I’m going to cope tonight. Nights are the worst for me. Nights are when my mind runs wild.  Some nights I will just sit there and hit myself in the head. I grab handfuls of hair and just pull at it. So it hurts. I screw up my face and just want to scream, but don’t. I keep silent. I say in my little silent world.  My world, my isolation, my head, my life, me. Just a pile of nothings.

 

Disappearing seems like a good option.

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