Nothing Good
Everything's bad. I'm cutting all the time. When I'm upset, when I'm angry, when I can't think, whenever I want to. It's so addicting. Each time I want to dig a little deeper, look myself in the eyes in the mirror while I do it, demand that there be no pain in my gaze. Sometimes I succeed, but I love the tight, pursed line my lips make.
I stayed home from work today and I shouldn't have. Chris worked my schedule so I just should have gone. He has the next two days off and I don't know what the hell he wants me to do. We've barely spoken for three days. I can't look at him without feeling too many unbearable things. I can't look him in the eye without feeling heartbroken and cold and alone. Heartbroken. Yeah. So many pieces clattering around in my empty chest. Something has to break because we can't keep going like this. At least I can't. I'm just trying to stay out of his way.
I guess it doesn't matter if I proved undependable by calling out of work today. They don't want me anyway. I'm not enough for them either. Everything is fucked. I don't care about hiding my cuts, but I know better than to flash them around. It's just that I don't care. I just want to keep cutting until I've exhausted all of the energy inside me that's sprung from my agonized despair. But we need the money, fuck it. So I'm just going to suck it up and keep going for the next four and a half weeks. Maybe Chris and I will figure something out before then. I hope so because it's getting worse in my head.
I stayed home from work today and I shouldn't have. Chris worked my schedule so I just should have gone. He has the next two days off and I don't know what the hell he wants me to do. We've barely spoken for three days. I can't look at him without feeling too many unbearable things. I can't look him in the eye without feeling heartbroken and cold and alone. Heartbroken. Yeah. So many pieces clattering around in my empty chest. Something has to break because we can't keep going like this. At least I can't. I'm just trying to stay out of his way.
I guess it doesn't matter if I proved undependable by calling out of work today. They don't want me anyway. I'm not enough for them either. Everything is fucked. I don't care about hiding my cuts, but I know better than to flash them around. It's just that I don't care. I just want to keep cutting until I've exhausted all of the energy inside me that's sprung from my agonized despair. But we need the money, fuck it. So I'm just going to suck it up and keep going for the next four and a half weeks. Maybe Chris and I will figure something out before then. I hope so because it's getting worse in my head.