I Don’t Care

Lately, I have been pulling my eyebrows all the time. I keep a little pompom ball in my pocket so that I can hold on to it whenever I feel like pulling. But I just keep it in my pocket. I just don’t care anymore. So what if I have bald spots in my eyebrows? So what if people notice? I just don’t care.

Yesterday, after being clean for nearly eleven months, I cut. I still feel no regret. I actually have been admiring the red lines on my arm. I don’t care about what I did. And if people notice, who cares? I have a cat now. They will understand.

A part of me is afraid though of what my attitude will bring. What if I become addicted to cutting again? Because someday, I might care. I do know how hard it was to nearly go eleven months. In the past, I frequently made it to four months before breaking down and cutting. Going four months was difficult. Shattering my record and going nearly eleven months was nearly impossible.

I have no idea what is going on but I do not like it. It is really scaring me.


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