Using this diary as the place I say things I can't really say elsewhere...
When I finally cut deep enough to split the skin, I nearly cried from happiness. It's been so long. I actually put my hands together and thanked the ceiling (I say the ceiling, as I looked upwards, and I'm damn sure there aren't too many deities who'd be cool with me thanking them for this).
My summer dress I just pulled on because I couldn't be bothered to get dressed has bloodstains all down the front.
My arm is a mess.
I feel so goddamn good. Every now and then I add another one, watch another trail of blood make its way down my arm. It shouldn't feel this good. All the loneliness, it doesn't matter. The need to run away, the sense of not being right, that hollow feeling - none of it matters. Right now, nothing matters. |
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