This is why, this is why, this is why I cut . . .
Writing it the fuck out, no cut cut cutting.
So, my next door neighbor invited me over for "a party" last night. Around ten o'clock I say to myself, there's no noise, perhaps there's no party. I go to her door, I knock, there was about ten people, I was invited in, I go back to my apartment bring over some alcohol, I sit down, and I try to make conversation. I hang out like this for the rest of the night, and generally just shoot the shit with a bunch of people. There a bunch of punk kids, the girl who invited me over goes to the art school down the street, blah, blah, blah. So it gets to the point where I start curling up on couches half asleep but not ready to go home because I don't like leaving the company of other people. One of the people visiting this girl tells me to go home, I have my own place just upstairs, I totally agree, I stand around for a few minutes, and then I leave. As soon as I'm out the door though, they start talking shit about me - "Why didn't he leave earlier, no one wanted him around, when I go places and no one wants me there, I leave, etc., etc." with a general consensus of everyone, even the people who came up to me to talk to me - it is the thing they've been waiting the whole time to say, and as soon as I was out the door it's a full on venting. Now I get upset, but not too upset, because I'm drunk, and I say fuck it, I'll think about it in the morning - but when I was going upstairs it sounded like the start of a LONG conversation about how I was hanging around where I wasn't wanted. These were just some scummy punk kids, and a chubby girl from art school, normally I don't care what they think - but knowing what they think, and having to live next to this girl, has left me with that horrible feeling where something just has to be done, and the natural instinct is to cut, because it means not confronting people, it means getting it out of my system, etc., etc. I've been places where I've got the strong feeling I wasn't wanted, and I leave, but last night I didn't get that feeling, I was talking to people, and I had been invited. I want to confront this girl, because otherwise it means always seeing her and having this inner "I'm a fucking loser" voice, but her friends are in town for the weekend, so I can't knock on her door - I have to wait, and then I don't know if I'll ever actually confront her, and I have to live with the inner hate demons constantly discussing just how much I should kill myself because no one has ever liked me and no one will ever like me. I have to say something to someone, so I wrote it here, and I want so much to not think about it at all, and just stop her when she's getting mail one day and say "I heard you guys talking after I left, if you don't want me over, just don't invite me.", but I don't have that kind of self-control, instead I'm going to hate myself for it all the time and whenever I see her, I'm going to look away, and I'm going to hate living where I do because everytime I see her it will be a constant reminder of how I will always be an outsider, even amongst chubby art school kids and hot topic punks. I don't know if writing it out made it better or worse, or if it will stop me from cutting again which I haven't done in so long, but it's an attempt.
So, my next door neighbor invited me over for "a party" last night. Around ten o'clock I say to myself, there's no noise, perhaps there's no party. I go to her door, I knock, there was about ten people, I was invited in, I go back to my apartment bring over some alcohol, I sit down, and I try to make conversation. I hang out like this for the rest of the night, and generally just shoot the shit with a bunch of people. There a bunch of punk kids, the girl who invited me over goes to the art school down the street, blah, blah, blah. So it gets to the point where I start curling up on couches half asleep but not ready to go home because I don't like leaving the company of other people. One of the people visiting this girl tells me to go home, I have my own place just upstairs, I totally agree, I stand around for a few minutes, and then I leave. As soon as I'm out the door though, they start talking shit about me - "Why didn't he leave earlier, no one wanted him around, when I go places and no one wants me there, I leave, etc., etc." with a general consensus of everyone, even the people who came up to me to talk to me - it is the thing they've been waiting the whole time to say, and as soon as I was out the door it's a full on venting. Now I get upset, but not too upset, because I'm drunk, and I say fuck it, I'll think about it in the morning - but when I was going upstairs it sounded like the start of a LONG conversation about how I was hanging around where I wasn't wanted. These were just some scummy punk kids, and a chubby girl from art school, normally I don't care what they think - but knowing what they think, and having to live next to this girl, has left me with that horrible feeling where something just has to be done, and the natural instinct is to cut, because it means not confronting people, it means getting it out of my system, etc., etc. I've been places where I've got the strong feeling I wasn't wanted, and I leave, but last night I didn't get that feeling, I was talking to people, and I had been invited. I want to confront this girl, because otherwise it means always seeing her and having this inner "I'm a fucking loser" voice, but her friends are in town for the weekend, so I can't knock on her door - I have to wait, and then I don't know if I'll ever actually confront her, and I have to live with the inner hate demons constantly discussing just how much I should kill myself because no one has ever liked me and no one will ever like me. I have to say something to someone, so I wrote it here, and I want so much to not think about it at all, and just stop her when she's getting mail one day and say "I heard you guys talking after I left, if you don't want me over, just don't invite me.", but I don't have that kind of self-control, instead I'm going to hate myself for it all the time and whenever I see her, I'm going to look away, and I'm going to hate living where I do because everytime I see her it will be a constant reminder of how I will always be an outsider, even amongst chubby art school kids and hot topic punks. I don't know if writing it out made it better or worse, or if it will stop me from cutting again which I haven't done in so long, but it's an attempt.