I messed up

I cut. Yesterday afternoon. I just decided, what the hell. What the point anyway? Why is this so bad? Of course, I was rationalizing. I had an interesting conversation with myself in my head. My friend say there are two mes, the me who wants to live and be happy, and the me who wants to hurt myself and be in control.
Me #1- happy me
Me #2- hurting me

Me #2: You could just cut. Why does this matter? It's helping you.
Me #1: Yes, but then I would disappoint everyone. I should really call a friend.
Me #2: Ok, well think of it this way- cutting is helping and hurting you. Quitting is helping and hurting you. So what's the difference.
Me #1: I guess... *wavers*
Me #2: Ha! *cuts self*
Me #1: Wait! I wasn't done fighting yet!
Me #2: Too freaking bad. You were too slow, as usual.
Me #1: Well, I guess now that it's done, I shouldn't feel guilty about it because then I'll just cut again...

I love my internal conversations sometimes. I've never thought of there being two mes. I've always thought about it being me against self-injury, or me against my ED. But I guess it was me against myself the whole time...

I am also convinced that I am in control of this thing, when really, I'm not. It's like how I was completely convinced that I was in control of my ED, when that's silly, because you never are. You think you are. You are NOT. It controls you. If I was in control, then I wouldn't have crazy urges to hurt myself all the time.

The cut was a little bad. I should just really stick to safer things, because razor blades are scary. Or, I should really just not do it. My friend came over, and I gave her my last razor blade. I swear this time. I already miss it.

Well, I have more to say, but I SERIOUSLY need to write my papers. I have two 8-10 page papers due in a week... fml. <3 you all.