I feel like I can’t take much more of this, my life’s been hell recently. I can’t handle anything and everything’s been bothering me. I’ve been out of vicodin pills for a little over three weeks now and I’m having serious withdraws, I can barely make it into work or even function on a daily basis. I was supposed to be getting some pills from my friend, but it turns out with all the surgery’s his mom has been through, she doesn’t have any. Or at least that’s what he said. My self injury has gotten completely out of hand, it’s like I can’t go a minute without thinking about cutting. It’s the only thing I have that stops the pain, it’s the only thing I have that‘s helping me keep it together, but it’s getting to be to much. I know I can’t keep up like this, I’m running out of places to cut, places that I can keep hidden. I searched my parent’s room today and found some old vicodin pills my step-dad had from when he had his surgery, God I feel so awful for being happy about that. I was so relived I felt like crying, but after what I’ve taken, there’s not many left and I know this vicious cycle is going to start all over again just as soon as I run out. The scary part is that even though I’ve found relief, I still feel like I need to harm. I’m taking it minute by minute trying to keep distracted and hoping it helps. Am I happy being damaged? I guess I’m beyond help when you think about it and I don’t know how I got this way. I feel like no one can help me, like no one wants to help me, maybe I’m not worth it anyways. What’s the point, right? At least I’ll be happy for a few days at any rate … everyone can just find someone better to save while I slowly kill myself. It’s funny, I should be happy right now -- I got what I wanted, what I needed, and at this moment I don’t feel happy what-so-ever. I’m pathetic.