Just an analytical note to myself.

I've started picking at my worst back at the start of 2011. Throughout the year I would go through repeated lapses when I believed I had stopped for good. The problem is when my skin gets better, I really forget the painful feeling of how much I had suffered going through it and how much weeks were wasted. I forget that it is not just a simple spot that I was picking but the actual pain it had caused me mentally and physically. I literally just forget and even when my skin was actually looking better, I was still unhappy as I find it hard to forgive myself of the scars I had produced on my face. Working vigorously and at times obsessively thinking how to achieve lovely skin. When I pick again and it looking so bad, I realise how in comparison, that my skin was decent than how I've made it. I go through times in my life when I feel so confident and then the next, I put myself back down again by hiding away from damaging myself. I am so frustrated how I forget. I should know by now and by scratching, squeezing, let alone using a sharp tool will ultimately cause an infection and open sores and to top it off scarring, discolouration and wasted weeks and lack of self confidence. Back in 2011, I had lost a relationship due to this problem I had, and even though I thought it was the worst thing ever, I am glad that I was not with that person anymore. Sometimes, we need to believe that sometimes, things and destiny happens for a reason. Even though I shortly had stopped picking for a while, I had met someone else, and lo' and behold! I had gone back to a relapse yet did something even worse and scraped a compass down my cheek when a spot was, yes, a compass! Which I know was incredibly mad. I know what was wrong and is wrong, yet it did not stop my tendency to do something as mad as that. Yet it seems as self harm yet I never or will never think about cutting my wrists or anything like that. I feel like sometimes my life is like a race against time especially when seeing the same people on most occasions, it's like I've already set that pressure on myself to try and look better each time. I feel mainly because I've never feel like I have suddenly blossomed through my time yet or gone through that obvious transition from a girl to a woman. I was always that dorky kid who's short with no breasts, bad skin and braces. When the braces were off at the age of 20 and skin improved, I didn't know how to nourish my inner beauty because I had such a bad experience with a druggy ex who happened to also be my first boyfriend. Now I am 25, I feel disappointed to feel like I haven't shined or blossomed. So I fake it and appearing as I am all grown up and my boobs have increased by wearing a wonder bra.