My Body Wants Me To Cut.

I told (Fire) I started cutting again... She was concerned again. She's even more concerned that I'll go too far and start trying to cut for...Permanent damage. Which basically means she's worried I'ma go crazy with all the added stress I'm under lately, I'm going to flip my switch and slit my wrists... Not going to lie, at times its so fucking tempting. There are times when I can think of nothing more than just taking the blade and just stabbing it into my wrist repeatedly until I'm no longer here. But then, who would look after everyone that I care for? Who would help the people that need my help? Who would be there to stop my sister from thinking mother hates her every time someone in the house gets yelled at? Who would be there to pick up the pieces of my 'family' after a scream-fest? Who would be there to be me? There are too many people that I help on a daily basis, I cant just up and abandon them because I don't feel like living is a good enough option for me anymore...That would be so selfish, and cruel, and neglectful. What would happen to everyone if I wasn't here? Would they even care? Or would their lives just go on as normal, or even, get better? I genuinely just sit in classes and 3/5 times I daydream about how people would be without me in their lives, how my family would be without me. Its quite eye-opening really, the little scenario's I can make up are so realistic, its hard not to believe them. Especially when I'm on a down time of the year when nothing is good. Oh I need to cut. But my blades are all blunt and they're crappy when they're blunt, they do nothing, stupid blades. I need more, but my mother will notice if too many razors go missing, I've already taken three this week, I've gone a bit overboard on my hips and am now judging the amount of cuts on them by how many lots of 20 calories I've eaten in the day. I currently have no hip left on my hip. They're all clean though, I take great pride in cleaning them, they're mine to protect, they're my little secret, the thing I can control, and I do control them...I control the amount of them and the size of them and where they go and how deep they go. They're all mine. I tried not to cut last night...It didn't work, I got all crazy and not breathy too well and then my vision went a little blurry and everything I thought about was related to blades and blood and death. I've decided against giving up the cutting, my body is obviously trying to tell me that it wants me to cut. It has to be...Right? I don't know, enjoy my ramblings guys, Gratias legendi <3