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I really, honestly thought that the new drugs were working. But from the past week or so, I've had random bouts of depression and anxiety. I could attribute it to PMS, but I really don't think that's what it was. Usually I just get really frustrated with myself, and it's really hard to say this, but I have been suicidal. I would never act on anything, but I have been. Wesley was sleeping the other day, and I knew there was a razor blade in the room (he had used it to split a pill). I kept telling myself I didn't want to, and didn't need to, but I hate this. I can't feel anything, and that's why I used to cut. Self-inflicted pain was better than no feeling at all. So, yeah, I cut myself. Just once, on my calf. I know there is no reason for it, and it doesn't solve anything at all, but I needed to feel something.

That scares me.