I want to get better, but I also don't. I say I don't know what's wrong with me; I do. I'm in love with my own misery. I feel like shit, and I know it, and I feed into it. I've been clean for barely a month, and I've never cut deep enough to scar (besides very thin lines of discoloration) but a part of me aches for more. I want to scar, and I want to bleed, and I want to carry that with me for the rest of my life. I know it's not good for me, but I don't know how to stop. I've completely romanticized harming myself. I feel guilty about this, of course. There's nothing for me to cut about. I have an okay enough family, I'm well off financially, I have great friends, I don't even have school right now. But then, when I actually think about seriously cutting, or if I see cuts online, or read about it, or something, I get unbearably nauseous. So I hate it. I hate self harm, but at the same time, I absolutely crave it. Fuck.