I often think of suicide, Not because my life is so fucked up, because it's not. I have a bed to sleep in, food to eat, and clothes on my back. From an outside view it seems silly of me to contemplate such a permanent decision. But I do. I find myself crying minimum 2 times a week. I'm beating myself up emotionally and there's a constant war in my head. I feel like that's the only consistent thing in my life. I haven't cut since the summer due to a promise I made with Chris, but it's hard to stop doing something that you've done for so long. Something that helped you cope..something that was the only hurt and pain you could control in your life.