Hurt

It's really sad that in my life the only person that I think I've ever truly hurt was myself. I treat randoms on the street with more respect and generosity than I do for my own body, my own soul. I try to love myself; I try to cater to interests, needs and desires; sometimes it works, but I seem to be the most happy when I watch myself cry in the mirror, and I can't help but laugh; I look so ugly, I feel so vacant; I get such joy out of the thought of watching myself bleed, especially after a long period of being clean; watching myself try to explain how I "fell" outside the library, or to a lover as to why i have cuts on my upper thigh.

I really am trying to improve; I guess I am, because I went from having suicidal thoughts and cutting several times a week to not cutting for two months straight, and having less frequent urges. But I just hope that one day I lose all of my self-destructive tendencies, but I just don't know if that's a reality. It just scares me, because the golden saying is "no one can love you if you can't love yourself", so, I guess I'll never be loved.