posted on Thursday, Nov. 13, 2008 @ 23:42
preface: modi operandi, only missing the disposable razor blade i finally threw away a few months ago. touching these many pills again made me sick. the absurdity of this scene calmed me down.
there's something poisonous in my head. for two days i've fought the urge to hurt myself. cutting or the ice thing, whatever. the ice thing is more appealing because it doesn't seem to count as much. no blood involved. no real scars. if i had to cut myself i'd be jumping off the bandwagon. five and a half years wasted. the last day to cut myself would be november 12, 2008. how pathetic. a 25-year-old grown fucking woman cutting herself.
this of course was launched by the fight i picked with mom and sarah. though i know i'm right, it hurts to fight. i left work at 09:00 yesterday morning and lay on the couch entertaining demented thoughts. i could do it while owen was at work, and no one would be the wiser. mom said it's not the 90s. we don't have to not speak to each other because we don't agree on everything.
but the 90s are back. these ideas and feelings are in my head. i'm on my anti-depressant and still hardly speak. i called my mother pathetic and spineless. tonight i sat in traffic on 183, in tears and "bumping moby like some gen x-er" (quoth chris).
i was at an on-campus happy hour surrounded by people i normally like but couldn't think of anything i wanted to do more than the payroll i abandoned on jamie's desk. rob teased me because i said i'd rather be doing payroll, bobby said i was too quiet, everyone kept pushing alcohol and rare steak on me. it was just an upscale version of high school.
i wanted to leave. i'd been there an hour and a half. i was able to perk up a couple times, but the nauseous feeling was growing in me. everyone kept drinking and laughing, and suddenly i'm the 16-year-old girl alone and crying, hugging a stuffed turkey in a child's bed, 14 days after attempting suicide, listening to the new years party her parents dragged her to count down to midnight.
it was fun to joke about, but john morriss said it best. happy people set themselves up for disappointment. i'm so easily disappointed. why bother. my gut said to stay and do payroll.
i think i'll go take a couple percocet instead. i'd kill for some valium and halcion. anything to blur the edges and stop this fucking crying.
oh you little devilish girl inside my head. why do you like to destroy me so?