Self-infliction seems satisfying at the time because you know the pain won’t last. It’s there, it numbs, it lingers, and then it’s gone. The skin closes up, it heals. The real pain comes weeks (maybe even months) later when you realize that the scars might not ever go away. I want to stop going to my therapist, but I don’t know how to bring it up. It’s not helping. I know it’s such a cliche thing to say, but I’m thinking that it never will. It did for a while, it really did, and within the past year, I’ve discovered so much about myself and the world. I stopped being afraid of so many things. And then this little thought was implanted in my mind, like a seed, and it rooted, and sprouted, and made me believe I could do anything. The truth is, I can’t. I wish someone would have told me that from the start. I’m just wasting money. That $20 copay is worthless. All I’ve got left to learn is what I need to teach myself. I really don’t think anybody can help.