I always thought myself to be very optimistic...

But as i looked back at the past, i was very much afraid of who i was used to be. That girl who hates the world yet smiles that all the time. All the hatred and fear. Looking back at all the things i wrote. The anger. The ideas of death. They seem like a distant memory. Yet still very fresh. Embedded some where.

Now i rarely seek death as an option. Is it because i have grown up? Or how i used to inflict pain just to feel that pain. The physical pain. The pleasure of that pain beats a lifetime of an emotional pain. Maybe i have grown up. Or maybe i have given up. Because i cant kill myself. Because its wrong. I have long convinced myself of this idea. And theres nothing more o wish for someone to do so. But that would make that person a murderer. So it cant work too.

Soon later, now. My thoughts abt it stopped. But somehow the need for physical pain. For the mental relief of stress. I can rmb the times i bite myself just to see how long i can make the mark stay. How the wounds would make the wounds in my heart heal.
That was actually quite good.

I feel like after i look at my past, the evilness in me awakens and i sought all sorts of funny things to get relief. When they dont... I jus have to have one last laugh and let it disappear from my life..

My thoughts are all over the place...