I feel like the biggest fucking hypocrite. Here I am telling people that self harm is not a healthy form of coping, and I go and cut up my god damn arm! All afternoon and night, the voices have been at me, the crawling vermin outside and inside my skin have not relented. The sight on the blood flowing down my arm was comforting (as though the vermin were being bled away), and made the crawling cease a little. I feel like a fucking failure, I'm unemployed and am unemployable, Ive been accepted into university but had to defer due to my mental illness. The voices are now telling me that Im "fucking weak' and should hurl myself over the cliff nearby my home, that they now in power as i listened to them and how dare i try to get rid of them by taking my antipsychotics, and among other things. I havent cut myself (until now) for over two years. Im telling people that there is reason for living, but cant seem to convince myself any more. Im alot better than i was a month ago (i was hospitalised), but I feel as though Im slipping. I cant even be honest with my psych and pdoc when they ask how everything is going. I know i need to be honest with them in order for them to help me. Right now, the pathetic soul that I am is getting drunk, hoping to drown the voices, paranoia and crawling.