(no subject)
I feel so very dirty, so rotten and dark and stained and disgusting that I am afraid to even look at my body.
I can't get her face out of my mind, the expression of horror...it haunts me, follows me more persistantaly than my own shadow ever could.
I don't want to shower, or to bath, no I want to drown myself in freezing water, I want to never resurface again. My skin feels as though it is crawling, writhing, it's a dark, a vile thing, and resembles more the skin of a corpse than anything else.
I want to hack at it, to chop, to peel it away; but I fear, no, I bloody well know, that the things lying benath my skin are even worse, even when it almost seems impossible to top the horror of my skin.
Her words, too, keep on ringing in my ears, the chorus of it, the "you don't know me" makes me sick, makes me tremble, makes me want to weep all over again.
Why do I breath? It seems like the wrong thing to do.
I can't get her face out of my mind, the expression of horror...it haunts me, follows me more persistantaly than my own shadow ever could.
I don't want to shower, or to bath, no I want to drown myself in freezing water, I want to never resurface again. My skin feels as though it is crawling, writhing, it's a dark, a vile thing, and resembles more the skin of a corpse than anything else.
I want to hack at it, to chop, to peel it away; but I fear, no, I bloody well know, that the things lying benath my skin are even worse, even when it almost seems impossible to top the horror of my skin.
Her words, too, keep on ringing in my ears, the chorus of it, the "you don't know me" makes me sick, makes me tremble, makes me want to weep all over again.
Why do I breath? It seems like the wrong thing to do.