I hate my mouth. So much that I dont eat in public, try not to smile, and put my hand in front of my mouth if I laugh.
I dont eat breakfast any more, nor lunch because of the whole public thing, so I eat one meal a day. Its half six now and I haven't eaten since 6 yesterday. Im really hungry, but I dont want to eat. What I really want to do is cut, but I promised myself I wouldn't.

Ive got "Dont let nan down" scrawled across my thigh. It was a bit difficult to write from where I'm still healing from last time, but I have found it useful.
My nan is the only person on earth I feel really understands me. I still haven't told anyone, but if I did she would be the first. I know she struggled with depression, so she would get how I feel.
If I cut now, it would be an insult to her, and I respect her way too much to do that. Sitting here writing I can slowly...

Great. Went to pick up my fucking stupid costume for a fancy dress charity thing my school are doing. And I left my fucking card at home. Tomorrow. And I cant ask my mum to come and help out because my card is in my fucking jeans, which by some sick twist of fate, is also where I left that stupid depressing story I wrote which I have been panicking all day about anyway. Isn't that just the fucking best. The shop closes in about 20 minutes, so I cant go home and come back. FUUUUUUUUCK.
I'm...

Yeah, every so often I'm like "oh shit! I haven't blogged in a while! There's nothing for my stalkers to do!" and then I write a blog.

So! I graduated Peer Employment Training with an overall score of 97.9% - and I checked - that's an A+ no matter what country you're in. Unless my source is wrong but I doubt that. I am now a qualified Peer Support Specialist, and can apply for jobs in that field. Go me! Living recovery. Not - not living a dream or anything, this is tough...