It's kind of funny how I feel I have to post this out on the internet. But I post it in the blog that I know no one I know has even considered to exist. Maybe it's because of that whole business of how odd it is to be sharing most your intimate thoughts with the entire world wide web. But then, why should I care what a stranger thinks. Maybe it's some kind of cry for help. How the hell should I know.
All I know is that I scare myself sometime. It started happening this summer. I would sit in bed and I'd look around my room and I'd see something sharp, and wonder how much would it hurt if I just dragged it across my arm. Would it be quick? Would it be painful for days? Would I know when it went too deep? Would I cry out for help, or would I lay there in my room, bleeding to death, saturating my favorite things in the crimson blood.
Just typing that is giving me the chills, and I'm on the brink of tears. Why should I be thinking like that? Just because I don't have a support? I've been supporting myself emotionally since I was in grade school. The one person I thought would be my friend through the ages, I rarely talk to anymore, the newer friends whom I thought were almost my soulmates, they have their own new friends. Meanwhile, I'm left here, all on my own, wondering what exactly is wrong with me. Samantha called and said she's going to the party instead of coming over to watch the movie. I knew she would, something changed over break. Maybe I'm too clingy of a friend, or maybe I'm too boring. I think Drea is the only true friend I have. If I really needed to, I could call her day or night and she'd be there listening. Maybe that church connection is stronger than any other I have with my friends. It's funny in that I had a slightly rocky opinion of Drea. I rarely hate people, and when I do, I cannot be swayed to like them... ever.
Maybe I just need a good cry. But I can't. I can't make myself cry.
I want to be on my own. Completely. I want a good job, a nice home, a pet or two. And I want someone to be there with me. Either as a friend or whatever, I don't care. I want and need that pillar to be there for me. When I have a tough day or hit another rough patch, I need that warm shoulder to be there to coax the tears out of my tired eyes.
Fuck this is a damn emo post.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
dont do it. once you cut you always fight not to. ive been cutting since i was 9. so dont do it even if you really want to. its doesnt hurt. its like relief of all the shit making pain somewhere else. but do not do it. remember i said this ive been trying to stop this and its not easy. and when u have to wear long sleeves forever cuz of the stupid scars that people say ohhhh what happened ull be sorry.
one more thing im probably the wrong person to give u advice cuz my own life is already fucked up but turn on some LOUDDD music and jump around and scream to it. i like to do that. helps get some shit out and after u feel so tired and a good sleep comes and u feel so much better.
it's weird because it's like you spoke my thoughts. I worry that it's because I've started cutting myself that all of my friends have left me. None of them know but it's like they do. Is there a big sign on my back that says DEALING WITH SHIT IN A NEGATIVE WAY BACK OFF!
That'd be kind of cool....
I have but recently returned from the valley of the shadow of death. I'm rapturously breathing in all the odors and essences of life. I've been to the brink of total oblivion. I remember and ferment the desire to remember everything. Death is the Road to awe, but life does get better. I hope you respond to this annie. I have read your blog and i would love to have a conversation with you if you still ever check this thing....
Post a Comment