Last night I went to bed and cried. Not very well: it was sort of like weeping but without as amny tears and almost soundlessly, apart from me singing along to the sad song on I had on repeat. I got up again and went downstairs. I had a drink and hid a knife up my sleeve, came upstairs, wrote in my diary and then got into bed. After a little experimentation I cut my left breast, a little above the nipple. I didn't cut deeply, only just enough to draw even a few beads of blood. And it didn't hurt much. It hurt, but not as much as I'd wanted. I hid the knife and went to bed again. Then I got up, brushed my teeth, glared at myself in the mirror and went to bed again.

This morning I have five red lines on my chest, pretty pathetic really. And what annoys meis I'm now wondering if I did them for thegood (ok, not good but... usual) reason of being in pain emotionally and wanting to feel it physically too (Although that was very much the case. Beforehand I'd just been imagining myself being beaten up etc.), but because I want to make people feel guilty. Which is a really, really horrible reason, manipulative and evil.