Venting

So, can I be honest here?

When my boyfriend isn't around, I struggle more to fight the thoughts to self harm. I find it hard not to find reasons to do it, or excises to make after I do it. I can't remember why I quit, and I keep telling myself 'just once' which is NEVER how it is going to be. Yet somehow I manage to convince myself that I can, and that somehow it will be alright.
I try to convince myself that my boyfriend will forgive me, although I don't know if he would.

Everything seems to evoke the urge to cause myself pain....
When I am at work, if someone tells me that I am being too slow, or not doing something right, or really anything that is considered "constructive criticism", on the outside I take it well, smile and nod, and comply. But what really happens inside my mind and inside my shell? I immediately start criticizing myself twice as much as whoever was to begin with. I get irritated, and I get an overwhelming sense to run. I get such an urge to go home and find a blade that usually I will "accidentally" fall into things at work. I will "accidentally" hit my hand/wrist/shoulder on walls, or shut them in doors, or do many things that just cause me pain, even if only temporary. I starve. I make sure I exercise in small ways when I am at work, so that I know I am burning more calories than I usually would.
If I am at home, and my boyfriend triggers me unknowingly, or says something that I don't take well, I simply turn it inwards. I tear myself down in every way possible because I get so mad about these things. By the time I am done, I am either wishing I was dead or wishing I had a blade.
Cutting is very much still a part of my life. Burning isn't as much as it used to be, but I still wish I could do it sometimes when I don't have access to a blade.
When someone tells me how ugly my scars are, or my boyfriend does, I just stay silent. It makes me want to cry, but I don't say a goddamn word.
Why?

Why do I never speak up for myself when it really matters and tears me down, but I will be the most outspoken person and sure as hell speak up when it's about things that aren't personal.
Why do I never let someone know that I am hurting?

There is a blade sitting in my room, right now.
All I can do is stare at it and will myself not to get up and get it. I can find temporary distractions, but even as I am typing this blog post I know that it is there. I know that it's so easy to reach, and that I have perfect circumstances to do it.
I don't know where the blade came from, and I don't know if it's sanitary. But I keep reciting to msyelf ways to sterilize it so that I can use it. And if that fails, I know I have a knife.
When my boyfriend is around and I know that I can't pick up a blade or do anything he considers "suspicious" I simply bottle everything up. I know that I can't make him understand what I am going through, why it isn't so easy to "just" find a distraction. Why it isn't easy to "just" not feel suicidal or to "just" stop.  I find it quite hard to talk to him about these things, and that combined with my fear of losing him just makes me suicidal.
I wish I was dead, wish nobody every knew I existed.

School is such a big trigger for me too. I don't want to sit down and do school because that allows for the negative thoughts to find a home in my head once again. I know they are always there, and that it doesn't really make a difference.... but I feel like if I go fast enough and have enough on my mind and do enough things at once, I can keep the thoughts away. Oh, how easy it is to lie to myself.

I want to just sleep all the time. I want to go to sleep and never wake up.
I think about quitting my job every day so that I can just do that. But somehow I never do.
These things are taking a toll on me, and making me feel batshit crazy. Either way I lose. If I cut, I lose. If I don't, I lose. I don't even give a fuck which of the consequences is worse. I just want to cut.

I talked to my boyfriend a little the other day, in the brief hour he saw me in shorts. I started telling him how fat I felt, and how I saw myself as a whale. I told him how the fat on my thighs makes me want to die, and now I hate everything about myself. He mentioned going on a healthier diet with me and going to the gym.... but then not even 2 hours later he was getting Dairy Queen. I got some too, of course. Because I guess I just love to hate myself. He told me that the fat and jiggle on my thighs was "sexy". He told me he didn't want me getting too tiny. I could only look at him. How in the hell could you think I am sexy when I look like shamu?! It kind of made me want to cry, because I am so far from what he sees, and eventually he will realize it.  I am waiting for that relapse.

I don't know what the point of typing all of that out is, because it doesn't matter. Everything will stay the same, and I will just keep dealing and sucking it up until I can't suck any more. I will isolate if that's what it takes.
But it's just to wait until I start falling down again. It's only inevitable. How could I ever get better from this "half life"?? I don't even know that I want to.
Most days a small tiny part of my brain wishes that my bf would just realize that I am not good enough for him., and leave me. Because that will be the trigger for my relapse, and  I know it is coming. I can feel a relapse coming, and I don't know what that means for me.

Anyways, enough rambling from my thoughts for now.