venting!

i claw at my skin trying not to dig a pencil into my arm. and yes a pencil. as soon as Im left alone to just be me without a mask the tears start flowing as the memories flood. I know I'm not supposed to hurt myself, and I'm suicidal. the physical pain blocks out the emotions for a while. I've always done this in a way, it used to be running so hard I passed out, or getting a adrenaline rush. but now, now I'm older and what used to work is to weak. I struggle feeling like I'm suffocating in the past, unable to get a true grasp on everything. I hate my self for feeling this way. that's the old story that I used to tell myself. and sometimes I slip back into it. but I know I am not unloved, and I know I'm doing what I'm ment too.