on blood loss and not being a murdermurderkillkill type
Zachariah has henceforth decided that once if he does not follow through on entering politics then we are going to be ueber crime busters. I don't know, something about how I'm an emotional cripple and he's tactful, but I'm observant and he has good aim. I am pleased.
This conversation started because ExGirlfriend texted me with something not unlike an ultimatum, but badly phrased- too urgent. (Indicitive of stress and stress means cutting.) More or less just a few minutes later she said she'd cut too deep. Over me. Luckily she's never cut too deep, not once, so she bled a lot but wasn't in danger...Zach and I were both freaking out, though, cause she was home alone, and eventually his parents called hers and hell broke loose and so on.
Fuck.
He says I have psychopathic tendencies- not the murdermurderkillkill tendencies, the "I don't understand how to do anything involving another person" psychopathy. Which sounds more like Asperger's to me.
Nevertheless, it has gotten to the point where I'm honestly dreading school staring up again. I look a wreck, I've got the hollow-eyes look that all insomniacs develop eventually, I've lost weight...I'm too stable, almost. Nothing phases me anymore. I hate it. Last time I went to school like this I had a massive panic attack before school even started and my (likely depressed as all hell, thousandyardstare and more brilliant than a glowstick on fire) old english teacher was stuck trying to make sure I didn't like kill myself on a coffee table or something.
But. But, but, but- I haven't cut. So there. Small victory, all things considering- I mean, it's been months since my last relapse- but under pressure, my first instinct wasn't to go inflict pain on myself to clear my head. I am, at least with that, content.
This conversation started because ExGirlfriend texted me with something not unlike an ultimatum, but badly phrased- too urgent. (Indicitive of stress and stress means cutting.) More or less just a few minutes later she said she'd cut too deep. Over me. Luckily she's never cut too deep, not once, so she bled a lot but wasn't in danger...Zach and I were both freaking out, though, cause she was home alone, and eventually his parents called hers and hell broke loose and so on.
Fuck.
He says I have psychopathic tendencies- not the murdermurderkillkill tendencies, the "I don't understand how to do anything involving another person" psychopathy. Which sounds more like Asperger's to me.
Nevertheless, it has gotten to the point where I'm honestly dreading school staring up again. I look a wreck, I've got the hollow-eyes look that all insomniacs develop eventually, I've lost weight...I'm too stable, almost. Nothing phases me anymore. I hate it. Last time I went to school like this I had a massive panic attack before school even started and my (likely depressed as all hell, thousandyardstare and more brilliant than a glowstick on fire) old english teacher was stuck trying to make sure I didn't like kill myself on a coffee table or something.
But. But, but, but- I haven't cut. So there. Small victory, all things considering- I mean, it's been months since my last relapse- but under pressure, my first instinct wasn't to go inflict pain on myself to clear my head. I am, at least with that, content.