I want to cut so badly now. Maybe it was foolish of me to write that last post, but I was merely writing what was on my mind. Now I can't get cutting out of my head. I'm not stupid. I know that I will end up cutting sooner or later. Perhaps it will only be once...or perhaps I will fall immediately back into slavery. I don't see this cycle ending, and I don't know if that's the darkness talking, or the truth. It is indisputable that I have struggled with depression for just about ten years now, nearly half my life. And when, four years ago, i took a piece of sharp plastic to my arm for the first time, I inextricably linked blood and darkness together. If there is darkness, blood will eventually follow.
So why not give in to the inevitable, eh? Why not just do it? Because every day I don't is one less scar to explain to my son one day. Every victory is one less time I cause my Beloved pain. Every time I stand strong is one more spark of hope, hope that just barely flickers. So even when I do eventually fall flat on my face, I can get back up and start all over. My first stretch without cutting lasted forty days. My second lasted twenty-one weeks. This most recent time has lasted nine months. So, yes, it is inevitable that I will again fall...just as it is inevitable that I will, sooner or later, get back up and continue my journey. At least...I hope so.
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