*i did the BAD THING yesterday.*
Ha, so what a hypocrite I am. About 45 minutes after I finished my Livejournal venting yesterday, I did the Bad Thing, the Thing I am Not Supposed to Do. And I thought I was good. Honestly--three months without injuring myself, and then I haul off and attack my right leg. That's the way it usually is, that's how it goes. I think I'm finally free of my morbid little obsession and WHAM, razorblade out, whoops! Family argument, and I'm fucking hemmorhaging. There are nasty little bleeding scars up and down my calf. It looks like I've been attacked by werewolves, or rats, or...something.
The funny thing is, it doesn't even hurt when I'm in the process of doing it, it's just so friggin relaxing. But about an hour later it hits me, what the fuck have I done? I'm a goddamn pyschopath! I can't bear to look at my legs anymore. They look like a Jackson Pollock painting--white scar, pink scar, splat-boom-blood.
Other than that, I'm sick with a fever of 102 so I'm a little out of it. I'm going to stay home and have a pirate party tomorrow. *Nice Ed Wood icon describes me as of now* Total fuck up.
Just goddamn hospitalize me.
The funny thing is, it doesn't even hurt when I'm in the process of doing it, it's just so friggin relaxing. But about an hour later it hits me, what the fuck have I done? I'm a goddamn pyschopath! I can't bear to look at my legs anymore. They look like a Jackson Pollock painting--white scar, pink scar, splat-boom-blood.
Other than that, I'm sick with a fever of 102 so I'm a little out of it. I'm going to stay home and have a pirate party tomorrow. *Nice Ed Wood icon describes me as of now* Total fuck up.
Just goddamn hospitalize me.