Until last week I had gone two months without cutting or burning. I wasn't trying to quit, but I either didn't have a blade that was sharp enough for me or the energy to do it. But, sometime last week (or maybe the week before, I can't remember anything anymore) I started doing it again. I cut my right arm instead of my left, like I usually do, because I have this weird OCD-like thing where I want my arms to have the same amount of scarring. Tonight I cut my upper right arm, near my shoulder. I realized months ago that the skin on that part of my arm is thinner or something, so I can cut a lot deeper and there is a bigger rush. I cut four times very deeply, and now they hurt like hell. I have these tiny shooting pains in them and they sting...
I sat on my bed feeling the pain from the cuts and it made me think about how I've been interested in destroying myself and my life since I was little. Not necessarily physically, but I've always had the urge to do things that will get me in trouble or fuck something up. For instance, when I was very young (like four or five) I loved stealing things. I always knew I would get caught, and I think that's why I did it. I remember, when I was five, my friend down the street had a scarecrow in front of her house as a Halloween decoration. They put her grandpa's straw hat on the scarecrow, and I decided I wanted it. I waited until they left and I stole the hat and hid it in the bushes in front of my house. For the three days I had it I would sit in the bushes with it and smile. After they started asking around, I decided to put it back. But, of course, I waited until they were pulling out of the neighborhood, in full view of their house, to put it back. Her mother saw me and was pissed, and demanded I take her back to my house so she could talk to my mom. I got in trouble for it, and I loved it. Or, when I was eight or nine, I used to say and do things that I knew would piss people off. Like my friends would ask me to lie about something or keep a secret, and the second I got away from them I would tell as many people as I could about the secret or make sure to tell whoever I was supposed to lie to that my friend had asked me to lie or make it extremely obvious that it was a lie. I lost a lot of my friends because of it but I didn't mind, because I liked the attention I got for fighting with them. 
I'm surprised this is the first time I put it all together, because it's completely obvious that I've been against myself for a very long time.