Tomorrow will mark two years free of self harm. No cutting, no choking, and...a negligible amount of banging my head on hard surfaces. I should be proud to make it this far, but I am terrified. I have hated every day spent without cutting, and I'm sick of it. I kept dealing with it by setting small goals whenever I felt like relapsing - just make it until tomorrow, and then you can cut. Make it until the weekend, and then you can cut. It has worked up until now - if I forced myself to wait until an arbitrary time, I could make it out of those awful moments when it seemed like cutting was the only thing that would help. Now it's been two years, and I find that I don't want to do that anymore. I promised myself that as long as I made it to two years, so that I could officially say the accomplished phrase, "I have not cut in years," that I was done trying. That I would let myself cut as much as I wanted because fuck it, I've tried. Now that day is almost here. I have bought new razors. I'm ready. But I'm scared. I know I want it, but I can't help but think of all the people I'll be failing if I start again. And the thing is, I don't CARE about failing myself. Everything I do is a failure. But I don't want them to be disappointed in me. They think I'm so strong now. Every day is a struggle not to throw myself under a bus. I want the pain, the blood, I even miss the scars. I don't know what to do. Do I follow through and let myself cut? Do I keep pushing and setting those tiny goals. Do I...shoot for three years? I don't think I can take anymore. I don't think I can take much more of anything. And I know that if I let myself cut now, there's no going back. The record will be broken, and nothing will be stopping me from cutting every day.