(no subject)
i cut my thumb today. i hit it against my razor after a shower, and a spot of blood appeared. when i got to my room, the spot had grown larger, to the point that it was too hard to try and get a bandaid on without making a mess. so i had to bring my bloodied hand to the health center to get some gauze. the thing is, that didn't phase me, at all. over the years i've gotten quite used to burning myself, cutting my hands in weird places that don't stop bleeding, all out of clumsiness. it's not even a big deal anymore. it didn't even hurt. then i went to panera, and had a bit of an attack. i couldn't stop thinking of the idea of part of my thumb getting sliced off and the feeling (which is a sort of tingly feeling) and the image kept flashing through my head. it stopped when i got my hot chocolate and the cashier called me "my girl" and i think that when i read books like Prozac Nation, where the narrator tells about her depression, i feel that way a little myself.
i think i really do have a (minor) case of OCD. i know everybody says that, but it's more than just little things. the fact that i'm scared to death that i leave my straightner on, convinced that i'm going to come back to my dorm on fire, even though i unplugged it. or the time over the summer that i made my bed and andrew wrinkled it and i started panicking because he was holding me and i couldn't reach the bed to fix that wrinkle, like my whole world was collapsing over it. it's a weird feeling. little things refuse to leave your head. like sometimes when leaving, my door doesn't close properly and i keep thinking about it until i have to go upstairs and fix it. it's weird.
i'm in one of my stages again. i get in moods where i have to be making, doing, reading, constantly or else all i do is think about that. i left my sewing machine at home and that is driving me crazy because i have so much i want to make make make. i took out prozac nation yesterday and i'm on the epilogue now, even though i had to study for a big exam today and have other work plus two hours of lynn (in which the program i work was cancelled but nobody thought to tell me) maybe that is why i'm writing in this so much, even when pretty much nobody reads it but i don't think it matters that anybody does because it is just me getting my feelings of the moment out and why would anyone really care that much? and if they did, why do i want them to know?
i love weekends way too much. i will be tired soon. i work tomorrow until 2am. then i'm goign salsa dancing on saturday. and i get to see bob dylan with the raconteurs which is a dream come true. i'm tired right now i think i will repose (as alex in everything is illuminated says) and finish my descarte even though my brain is not working and i'm waking up extra early to take a shower and get some coffee because i ran out and class is super-bad without coffee
i think i really do have a (minor) case of OCD. i know everybody says that, but it's more than just little things. the fact that i'm scared to death that i leave my straightner on, convinced that i'm going to come back to my dorm on fire, even though i unplugged it. or the time over the summer that i made my bed and andrew wrinkled it and i started panicking because he was holding me and i couldn't reach the bed to fix that wrinkle, like my whole world was collapsing over it. it's a weird feeling. little things refuse to leave your head. like sometimes when leaving, my door doesn't close properly and i keep thinking about it until i have to go upstairs and fix it. it's weird.
i'm in one of my stages again. i get in moods where i have to be making, doing, reading, constantly or else all i do is think about that. i left my sewing machine at home and that is driving me crazy because i have so much i want to make make make. i took out prozac nation yesterday and i'm on the epilogue now, even though i had to study for a big exam today and have other work plus two hours of lynn (in which the program i work was cancelled but nobody thought to tell me) maybe that is why i'm writing in this so much, even when pretty much nobody reads it but i don't think it matters that anybody does because it is just me getting my feelings of the moment out and why would anyone really care that much? and if they did, why do i want them to know?
i love weekends way too much. i will be tired soon. i work tomorrow until 2am. then i'm goign salsa dancing on saturday. and i get to see bob dylan with the raconteurs which is a dream come true. i'm tired right now i think i will repose (as alex in everything is illuminated says) and finish my descarte even though my brain is not working and i'm waking up extra early to take a shower and get some coffee because i ran out and class is super-bad without coffee