not everyday is new.
it was so nice to spend time with paul over the weekend. it's harder for us to bullshit each other when we spend time talking face to face. & everyone here was so excited to see him.
saturday night, i was worried about him, though. he was dissociated anyway, because sometimes he is like that for days. then he decided to drink. generally, no big deal. he's with people; he's distracted. but then this girl from my hometown (who he likes) told him that she was mad at him for drinking & didn't want to talk to him. which was very hypocritical because she herself drinks, & stupid because, fuck, give the boy a break - he cleaned up off of drugs entirely. that's not easy. but it really upset him that she was angry. & he took a long shower. & cut himself pretty badly. he should've had stitches, & he knew that because he's an EMT. & then he drank more. he was so drunk he could barely walk, & i was afraid that he may get alcohol poisoning.
i'm not upset with him for any of this. i just wish i had tried harder to talk him down, keep him calm, keep him distracted. he was drunk, & upset, & i knew exactly why he was going to take a shower at 1am.
anyway. a mutual friend of paul & i (who knows about his self-injury) found out about mine yesterday. i lent him "a bright red scream" to read, & forgot that some of the notes i had written in it might suggest to someone that i, at the least, used to self-injure. we were talking about paul - who this friend cares about a lot - & he felt bad that paul didn't talk to him about things the same way he talks to me. & i told him that he shouldn't be upset about it, because there were reasons that paul talked to me & not him. he got an odd sort of look on his face, & i asked him what it was supposed to mean. he replied by handing me the book opened to a passage that i had underline about people's reaction to discovering self-injury. next to it was written a name that he recognized.
him: "did you used to self-injurer?"
me: "something like that."
him: "& you stil..."
me: "..."
it was stupid of me to give him the book in the first place. i should've known that he would catch on if he read my notes. if i hadn't been so gawdamn dissociated when i gave it to him, i wouldn't have. i would've known better. i'm frustrated.
today, as i was walking into my performance class, the word "fuckup" broke open on accident & started bleeding down my arm. my wristband is stained.
fuck.
truly yours,
xX. the girl.
saturday night, i was worried about him, though. he was dissociated anyway, because sometimes he is like that for days. then he decided to drink. generally, no big deal. he's with people; he's distracted. but then this girl from my hometown (who he likes) told him that she was mad at him for drinking & didn't want to talk to him. which was very hypocritical because she herself drinks, & stupid because, fuck, give the boy a break - he cleaned up off of drugs entirely. that's not easy. but it really upset him that she was angry. & he took a long shower. & cut himself pretty badly. he should've had stitches, & he knew that because he's an EMT. & then he drank more. he was so drunk he could barely walk, & i was afraid that he may get alcohol poisoning.
i'm not upset with him for any of this. i just wish i had tried harder to talk him down, keep him calm, keep him distracted. he was drunk, & upset, & i knew exactly why he was going to take a shower at 1am.
anyway. a mutual friend of paul & i (who knows about his self-injury) found out about mine yesterday. i lent him "a bright red scream" to read, & forgot that some of the notes i had written in it might suggest to someone that i, at the least, used to self-injure. we were talking about paul - who this friend cares about a lot - & he felt bad that paul didn't talk to him about things the same way he talks to me. & i told him that he shouldn't be upset about it, because there were reasons that paul talked to me & not him. he got an odd sort of look on his face, & i asked him what it was supposed to mean. he replied by handing me the book opened to a passage that i had underline about people's reaction to discovering self-injury. next to it was written a name that he recognized.
him: "did you used to self-injurer?"
me: "something like that."
him: "& you stil..."
me: "..."
it was stupid of me to give him the book in the first place. i should've known that he would catch on if he read my notes. if i hadn't been so gawdamn dissociated when i gave it to him, i wouldn't have. i would've known better. i'm frustrated.
today, as i was walking into my performance class, the word "fuckup" broke open on accident & started bleeding down my arm. my wristband is stained.
fuck.
truly yours,
xX. the girl.