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7:09PM, Sunday 10 July 2016
A few months ago, I thought I understood those who committed self-harm, but instead, I discovered a nasty reflex of mine.

I would not consider myself mentally stable. Especially when left on my own. Being scolded also doesn't help. It's a little silly to be writing about this now, it seems, because I am soon to be an adult and yet I still suffer from my detrimental tendencies.

What tendencies?

When I'm grey, I stop responding to physical stimuli. A few months ago (or perhaps it's been a few years), I discovered this seeming immunity to pain. I had somehow reached the conclusion that others also could not feel anything when their minds were plagued with the Shadow. I figured that people harmed themselves because they couldn't feel it, like I can't feel it.

I don't think I was correct. I remember No'C was very against self-harm and so I thought I was, too. How hypocritical of me.

Check my skin, dear readers. I don't slit my wrists or anything. You will not find scars from sharpened metal blades. Instead, you will find scratches and inflamed lines.

Those were inflicted by my nails. You see, reader, I have developed at some point in my past the tendency to dig my fingernails into my skin when I am grey. I don't feel it. When I start to feel the sting, it helps me know I'm no longer grey.

And as I type this entry, the ever intensifying sting on the skin of my left arm is very, very reassuring.

It's good that I chose to be a pianist. It's good that I have to maintain short fingernails. It's good that no one here is concerned because I would probably cry at the fact that someone cares.

Is today a bad day? It might be, dear readers. I might cry tonight. Hopefully I can keep myself distracted long enough for this threat to pass.