Sometimes I wonder if I’m getting worse. I was bad for a long time and I always vented into a journal because I was terrified of dying without anyone knowing who I was in my entirety. I’m better at hiding it, I think, the fact that I am getting worse and I can’t stop it. Sometimes in class when something goes wrong, like usual people not sitting next to me, my head just explodes internally and I feel so angry and full of rage because I hate feeling like I am that weird twelve year old again who was a social outcast — for lack of a better term — who had no friends so they just read books in the library to distract themselves. Sometimes I feel the urges to harm myself again, I’ve never done it but sometimes I just look at my wrists and I feel the phantoms of scars that I don’t have. It makes me feel like I should have them. Maybe I am getting worse