Everybody says that his home is with his temporary foster parents. Home should be with his father and I. Or even with just one of us. I miss him soooo much. It makes my depression worse to see him leave. Leave with someone else after our visits. It makes me want to cut. I try not to cut for his sake. It's a struggle I am quickly losing. The feel of cold steel on warm flesh. The ripping sound of tearing skin. The sight of blood pool around the cut. The warmth of it running down my wrists. I want to do this soo badly. But I dont want my son to see this. To know that I am a failure that cant deal with my feelings. To know how I grew up in a broken home doing these things. Fuck it. I give up.