A couple of nights ago was the first time in a while that I've cut. I now have the word "DEATH" etched into my arm, all the way from wrist to elbow. I did it shortly after my father blamed me for taking a few of his beers. It made me wonder why he never asked why I was drinking. He's seen bottles of heavy alcohol in my room, but never asked why. It's not uncommon of him either. We've had some serious issues in the past, and they haven't gotten any better over the past 10+ years.

Cutting isn't the only form of self harm that I've done. Some of them include starving, excessive alcohol (in some cases on an empty stomach), and others.

I'm a little bit worried about the future. As far as I can see, these issues will only get worse. The only reason I haven't committed suicide yet is because too many people depend on me. Knowing that your only reason for living is because others need you to is rather depressing. Chances are, over the next 6-12 months I'll crack under pressure.

Even though I speak to many people on a daily basis, I can't remember the last time anyone asked me how I was doing/feeling.

The thread title is my current motto.