i actually hated calvin and hobbes.
Got home and went through almost an entire bar of soap, aimlessly scrubbing, subconciously erasing, passionately scalding myself. Blood collecting at the drain, what the fuck? Somehow I stepped on a razor and didn't even realize. My skin is mottled, my chest is hot, I choke on steam. Gag. I hate being alive right now. I try to cry, try to call up some sort of emotion, but the shower is too wet, go figure, my tearducts resist, and I resign myself to a rough yellow towel with dye stains.
I lie wet and half naked, sprawled across plush comforters and dirty laundry. I turn the fan on, in December, and feel my hair stiffen, start to freeze. It's easier to hate life when you make yourself uncomfortable.
Shit, I never got a band aid, there's blood all over my carpet, and my foot stings from the fuzz stuck to it. I throw on pajamas, hobble back to the bathroom, stare at my reflection through the evaporating steam and cry all over again. I want to get back in the shower but I used all of the hot water up. I want to call you but I've been too busy pushing you away to remember your number. I want to clean my room but I can't find a starting point. I want a lot of things but I've never been successful at list making.
I lie wet and half naked, sprawled across plush comforters and dirty laundry. I turn the fan on, in December, and feel my hair stiffen, start to freeze. It's easier to hate life when you make yourself uncomfortable.
Shit, I never got a band aid, there's blood all over my carpet, and my foot stings from the fuzz stuck to it. I throw on pajamas, hobble back to the bathroom, stare at my reflection through the evaporating steam and cry all over again. I want to get back in the shower but I used all of the hot water up. I want to call you but I've been too busy pushing you away to remember your number. I want to clean my room but I can't find a starting point. I want a lot of things but I've never been successful at list making.