Pushing them all away. They don't get it, just mad that I can't make myself do all the 'fun' stuff they want me too. Everytime is more extreme. Fantasies about cutting to bone, stitches just not enough anymore. More and more multiple wounds to be stitched each time.
OD urges are back. My means of Suicide is back in my mind. How far does this go? How far before you reach the point where things cant change? I think I'm there now, this won't get better. But how do I find the courage to follow through my plans? I don't know what I need, what I want, I know nothing anymore.
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