I`m ashamed to say this, but for the first time in ages, a cutter came near my skin again. That`s pretty much a euphemism for "I slashed one long line down my wrist" but I`ll tell you anyway. It`s alright, no one really reads this. Well, the metal was cold, but I forgot how painful it really was. After the slash was made, it did not hurt much, but now it`s throbbing. Even so, I don`t regret cutting. It distracts me from what really hurts.
Now, I reminded myself all over again. Shit. Okay, so maybe I lied. Maybe I never really forgot. Maybe the emotional pain right now is suffocating me, driving me to the now-unfamiliar throes of crying-induced asthma that I haven`t felt since I was 7. Maybe cutting hasn`t really distracted me anymore than writing this has. Maybe I never really forgot the emotional pain...and, oh, fuck, I am so angry. This feeling`s strange...like I`m a taut violin string and the lightest pressure will make me snap.
I have no gift for words & this is probably the crudest thing I have ever written, but the feelings running amok in me are primal and crude too. Raw. Animalistic. Like I just want to go inside my tormentor`s room and rip her eyeballs out with my long, light blue fingernails. Fist her hair and smash her head against the headboard of that too-big bed. It`s sick that I get so much pleasure from daydreaming about this right now & if I wasn`t in such a horrendous mood, I would probably be disgusted...but not now. Now, I just want her to be tortured, maybe like the poor Japanese girl who underwent 44 days of torture. That would be hell on earth, but that still would not be enough.
My eyes are itchy now that I`ve cried my tear ducts dry. I can`t even breathe through my nose because it`s clogged. My lips are dry. It even hurts when I lick them. Ohmygod, the table where my computer sits has so many memories from before this pain. Why can`t I imagine a time when everything was better? All I can see right now is this red-hot poker stirring my insides.
Beside my left hand is the list of things we ordered from Yellowcab a mere 3 hours ago. Hard to believe that 3 hours ago, I was laughing. How did this all happen so fast? Beside the mouse is the glass of water I remember filling at the dinner table downstairs. Oh yes, we were all cracking jokes then. Amazing how our family dynamic could change in so little time.
What scares me most is I don`t know how this happened. It wasn`t supposed to be like this...& now that I think about it, I am the person I hate most right now. I hate myself more than my torturer, because, in the end, this is all my doing. Yes, that`s probably why I cut myself. Damn it, I wish that when I climbed over that silly gate, I fell on the ground, broke my spine & died. Would that be a bad thing to wish? Maybe then, I wouldn`t be feeling so dead inside.
Wow, this is long. I just read everything I wrote & it all just comes of as the whiny rant of a suicidal bitch. Yup, no talent for writing here. Just letting it all out.
Remember New Moon? The book by Stephenie Meyer where Bella spends most of her time crying about some painful hole in her chest? I used to laugh at that book, think about how silly & exaggerated it was...but not anymore. In a way, that is exactly how I feel right now. Broken in so many pieces that I have to hug myself in order to make sure I`m in one piece. Am I? I don`t know...
I used to relate this kind of physical pain to boys. Yes, it`s a dull ache in my chest, the feeling I always associate to the word "heartbreaking". I thought this kind of pain was for relationships...like, when someone cheats on you or the boy you loved most gives up on you. But no, I was wrong. My heart is breaking because of my mistakes right now & the consequences I have to face. It`s probably not all my fault & my torturers are overreacting, in my point of view...but, whatever happens, I`m going to carry the total weight of this on my shoulders. This is no laughing matter; the consequences are dire. I may have single-handedly ruined what was left of my pitiful relationship with my mom. My parents` trust is now irrevocably lost, not that it was ever with me in the first place.
What will I do now? How will I move from here? It`s 12.24 AM, but I`m selfishly wishing that someone can drive all the way here, wipe my tears away and hug me tight. Not letting go as I sob the whole damn story on his or her shoulder. And I would give the world for that person to be my mother, so that I can tell her how much I love her & how sorry I am for being the black sheep of the family. But that will never happen because our huge pride is a family trait. If only she can read this, but, as computer-illiterate as she is, that is impossible.
Oh, God...I am so scared. I just want to die. You probably did not understand the whole idea of this blog entry, but it`s okay. My advice to you is to just forget all about what you read & smile, because your life is so much better than the pitiful remnants of mine.
This has been too long, I feel like I should stop. Hundreds of words, ranting on & on, have been written. This was an exercise to make me feel better...but do I? Even marginally? I don`t know. I can`t think straight. Maybe I will do better tomorrow, when everything is a bit clearer. Or maybe I`ll do better after a bottle of wine & a pack of Reds, when everything is blurrier. I suppose I shall try both tomorrow. For now, I better find some Band-Aids to cover the gash on my inner arm. I may be falling apart, but that`s not reason enough to make anyone else worry.
Well, goodnight. I hope you had a better day than mine...though I don`t see how anyone could have it worse. Sleep well.
Now, I reminded myself all over again. Shit. Okay, so maybe I lied. Maybe I never really forgot. Maybe the emotional pain right now is suffocating me, driving me to the now-unfamiliar throes of crying-induced asthma that I haven`t felt since I was 7. Maybe cutting hasn`t really distracted me anymore than writing this has. Maybe I never really forgot the emotional pain...and, oh, fuck, I am so angry. This feeling`s strange...like I`m a taut violin string and the lightest pressure will make me snap.
I have no gift for words & this is probably the crudest thing I have ever written, but the feelings running amok in me are primal and crude too. Raw. Animalistic. Like I just want to go inside my tormentor`s room and rip her eyeballs out with my long, light blue fingernails. Fist her hair and smash her head against the headboard of that too-big bed. It`s sick that I get so much pleasure from daydreaming about this right now & if I wasn`t in such a horrendous mood, I would probably be disgusted...but not now. Now, I just want her to be tortured, maybe like the poor Japanese girl who underwent 44 days of torture. That would be hell on earth, but that still would not be enough.
My eyes are itchy now that I`ve cried my tear ducts dry. I can`t even breathe through my nose because it`s clogged. My lips are dry. It even hurts when I lick them. Ohmygod, the table where my computer sits has so many memories from before this pain. Why can`t I imagine a time when everything was better? All I can see right now is this red-hot poker stirring my insides.
Beside my left hand is the list of things we ordered from Yellowcab a mere 3 hours ago. Hard to believe that 3 hours ago, I was laughing. How did this all happen so fast? Beside the mouse is the glass of water I remember filling at the dinner table downstairs. Oh yes, we were all cracking jokes then. Amazing how our family dynamic could change in so little time.
What scares me most is I don`t know how this happened. It wasn`t supposed to be like this...& now that I think about it, I am the person I hate most right now. I hate myself more than my torturer, because, in the end, this is all my doing. Yes, that`s probably why I cut myself. Damn it, I wish that when I climbed over that silly gate, I fell on the ground, broke my spine & died. Would that be a bad thing to wish? Maybe then, I wouldn`t be feeling so dead inside.
Wow, this is long. I just read everything I wrote & it all just comes of as the whiny rant of a suicidal bitch. Yup, no talent for writing here. Just letting it all out.
Remember New Moon? The book by Stephenie Meyer where Bella spends most of her time crying about some painful hole in her chest? I used to laugh at that book, think about how silly & exaggerated it was...but not anymore. In a way, that is exactly how I feel right now. Broken in so many pieces that I have to hug myself in order to make sure I`m in one piece. Am I? I don`t know...
I used to relate this kind of physical pain to boys. Yes, it`s a dull ache in my chest, the feeling I always associate to the word "heartbreaking". I thought this kind of pain was for relationships...like, when someone cheats on you or the boy you loved most gives up on you. But no, I was wrong. My heart is breaking because of my mistakes right now & the consequences I have to face. It`s probably not all my fault & my torturers are overreacting, in my point of view...but, whatever happens, I`m going to carry the total weight of this on my shoulders. This is no laughing matter; the consequences are dire. I may have single-handedly ruined what was left of my pitiful relationship with my mom. My parents` trust is now irrevocably lost, not that it was ever with me in the first place.
What will I do now? How will I move from here? It`s 12.24 AM, but I`m selfishly wishing that someone can drive all the way here, wipe my tears away and hug me tight. Not letting go as I sob the whole damn story on his or her shoulder. And I would give the world for that person to be my mother, so that I can tell her how much I love her & how sorry I am for being the black sheep of the family. But that will never happen because our huge pride is a family trait. If only she can read this, but, as computer-illiterate as she is, that is impossible.
Oh, God...I am so scared. I just want to die. You probably did not understand the whole idea of this blog entry, but it`s okay. My advice to you is to just forget all about what you read & smile, because your life is so much better than the pitiful remnants of mine.
This has been too long, I feel like I should stop. Hundreds of words, ranting on & on, have been written. This was an exercise to make me feel better...but do I? Even marginally? I don`t know. I can`t think straight. Maybe I will do better tomorrow, when everything is a bit clearer. Or maybe I`ll do better after a bottle of wine & a pack of Reds, when everything is blurrier. I suppose I shall try both tomorrow. For now, I better find some Band-Aids to cover the gash on my inner arm. I may be falling apart, but that`s not reason enough to make anyone else worry.
Well, goodnight. I hope you had a better day than mine...though I don`t see how anyone could have it worse. Sleep well.
No comments:
Post a Comment