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Cynically Beautiful

Misunderstood

Been awhile since I have updated here, I am literally drowning in papers! I don't know if I am going to be able to finish them or not! I am hoping...

Bio is not going well. We had a pig pathway quiz today (20 points) and I know I fucked up at least to of the four. I can't keep all the different veins and arteries stright to save my life. I am gonna have to SYUDY my ASS off for the practical if I wanna pass. I am fairly confident now in passing the lecture. I have been getting C's on the exams but C's are passing so as long as I keep that up I should be semi-ok. I guess I can't ask for too much, I've never been good at this stuff.

I am trying to be brave. I am trying to write a personal essay on cutting for my writing class. I am including excerpts from diary enteries in which I talk cadidly about my experience with cutting. I am including research... I don't know why I want to do this to myself. I just know I have to. Part of me really wants to do this. I hope it might help people that don't cut understand the people that do, without judgement and without fear. At the same time I am afraid. Afraid of being condemed, or pited, or feared, or thought to be crazy...

I cut, and the memory of it haunts me, I still find myself faced with it all the time, I know how easy it would be, but I feel like I can't talk to people about the fact that every once in a while I just want to feel the pain to see that clear red line. It would scare them, they would start to watch me more carefully, they would be careful what they said to me. I would loose them. I feel safe with written words, they can't touch me, I can distance myself and pretend that this is why I never cry, because I never say it out loud. This paper is going to be the last time I ever talk of cutting outside of this and my other diaries. The last time I berden people with the truth... it's my last chance to show them, to open their eyes, to make them understand...









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