Tonight, as I sat outside smoking a Newport I had bummed from a friend (or maybe he's just an acquaintance and I really do need to reevaluate my definition of a friend), I prayed to God. I prayed for my pain to be taken away, because if my pain disappears then surely I can quit hurting those who care about me as I try to numb the pain. I don't remember the time previous to that when I prayed. I feel awful about that--not praying as much as I feel I should. Instead, I'm the kind of person that just asks for help when I want it. Not even whenever I need it, just whenever I want it. I am thankful, but I don't know if I make that apparent like it should be. I have so much to be thankful for, I have my entire life to be thankful for. I feel so selfish that I can be torn apart so easily by something that in the long run will mean nothing to me. Will I even remember this event years from now? I don't imagine that even if I can or do, that it will signify anything other than how easily wounded I was. Yet, there I was just yesterday (was it really only yesterday?), researching which pills would take the pain away... forever. I hate that I have become this way, and perhaps that I have become this way again. I won't deny that I have wanted to end my life before, but I like to say that I am past that. Really, the only things keeping me from disappearing are my fear of Hell, my fear of hurting those who care about me, and my fear of pain. Thank God that I still feel fear.

Did anyone expect things to get this bad again?