I've been put back into therapy. I'm supposed to go weekly now. I'm not sure how to feel about it.

I know that I wanted to visit Lindsey again. When they discharged me, I knew something was still wrong. I didn't feel ready to go. Everyone said I was okay though, so I just went along with it. I wanted to go back so badly, but now I think I hate it.

I've only had one session so far, and it's so much more different now. I still have Lindsey, but her approach is different. 

In 2nd Year, the approach was 'let's identify, dissect, and try to fix the problem'. I feel like they got a lot of stuff wrong though. I've always had a hard time communicating with people, so I understand why. This time is different. More of a 'we've fixed your problems so cop on hoe' approach. 

Lindsey said 'I cut myself to feel high'. I tried to tell her not to say it like that, since the word 'cutting' really makes me feel uncomfortable. She already knew that, but she said

 'Well, that's what you do, isn't it? Listen, Matilda, last year I used a gentler technique, but I can be harsh as well. Last year you were in a bad space, but now you're fine. This is ridiculous.'

She said that I self harm to feel high. There's a level of happiness I can get to through hard work, but self harm makes me twice as happier and all it takes is one cut. But that high feeling only lasts a little while. 

That's where she's wrong. 

The high feeling isn't short term. It lasts a night and a day. In the evenings, I just have to top up on that feeling, and I'm good to go.

I don't like myself, that's pretty obvious. When I do something wrong, like fail to make Liam happy when he breaks down, or stutter, or get a bad grade, or make people uncomfortable, or make people pity me, I add another reason to harm onto the little list in my head. I do it to keep myself in line.

But is it keeping me in line? I do get a kind of high when I indulge. I fucking hate it, but at the same time have to do it to feel happy. I used to self harm to feel like I accomplished something. Then I did it to feel something. Then it was to keep me in line. Even though the reasons changed, the feelings didn't. I still felt happy, but disappointed I couldn't bleed enough. It was like that every time. It still is.

Is it really that bad? The wounds are never fatal. I'm careful so more people don't find out. Plus, I never even bleed that much. The blades in my house are dull. When I try to break open pencil sharpers with a hammer, I just break the blade. The only time it worked the blade was too small to hold in my hand. I just use knives. I used to, at least. My parents took away my blades and threw them out. 

I told Lindsey that I didn't want to work for a mediocre happiness, and she said

'Matilda, that's life.' 

I don't want to live like this. I want to live though. 

If my suicide attempt had worked, I wouldn't have to feel like this. I could've just died and then I'd never have to care about people. I never would have had to deal with this. I would be dead, and everything would have stopped. If I had just kept my fucking mouth shut, then I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have moved schools, and I would've successfully had stabbed myself in front of those bitches. If my death didn't traumatize them, then the corpse would've. And I'd be happier. I didn't want to live, so I should've just died happy rather than suffered through this. 

At the same time, I'm glad I got answers. I don't want to die anymore. I don't want everything to stop. I want to hang out with my friends and get a hot vampire girlfriend and draw and play piano and plant tons of trees to save this dying earth. I want to do stuff now. 

I don't know how to feel about this transition from wanting death to hating life.

That's all for now.