"It's like the face inside is right beneath my skin"
Nine Inch Nails, Mr. Self Destruct.
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I'm tired, but going to post anyways. This is one of those posts I should probably sit on for a day or so, then decided if I should put it out there. But I'm not going to today. I'm making an attempt at somewhat unrestrained honesty. Even on the internet. Go me.
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Do you, ever see your wrist and consider it a point of release and satisfaction? I do. From time to time, it's not just a wrist, a body part, a place with skin and blood and veins, and muscles, and function.
From time to time, it's a place where you can trace the veins. From your wrist, to your elbow, to your armpit. You can follow the blood flow and consider releasing it. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don't. Thoughts like that scare some of you out there.
You can follow it up your arm. You can think about what's the most inconspicuous spot, because I'm not usually one for the obvious on these sorts of things.
...
I'm trying to write something real today. Something that I will think about in warranted circumstances. Mind you, this isn't often anymore. Hardly ever. But sometimes, things happen and it comes up.
It's a mentality many people don't understand.
...
And I'm so pale I can trace a line on my skin and make it red. Over and over. And without careful precision, you can break the skin.
...
Sometimes I feel like my eyes are dead. That when someone else is looking at them, they're staring back and looking dead. Most of the time in my life, this isn't the case any more. But sometimes, rarely any more, but sometimes, it happens. I stare out with dead eyes.
...
Or with a feeling of indifference. Because most of you will never understand it.
...
Secretly, we're all searching.
...
I'm tired, but going to post anyways. This is one of those posts I should probably sit on for a day or so, then decided if I should put it out there. But I'm not going to today. I'm making an attempt at somewhat unrestrained honesty. Even on the internet. Go me.
...
Do you, ever see your wrist and consider it a point of release and satisfaction? I do. From time to time, it's not just a wrist, a body part, a place with skin and blood and veins, and muscles, and function.
From time to time, it's a place where you can trace the veins. From your wrist, to your elbow, to your armpit. You can follow the blood flow and consider releasing it. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don't. Thoughts like that scare some of you out there.
You can follow it up your arm. You can think about what's the most inconspicuous spot, because I'm not usually one for the obvious on these sorts of things.
...
I'm trying to write something real today. Something that I will think about in warranted circumstances. Mind you, this isn't often anymore. Hardly ever. But sometimes, things happen and it comes up.
It's a mentality many people don't understand.
...
And I'm so pale I can trace a line on my skin and make it red. Over and over. And without careful precision, you can break the skin.
...
Sometimes I feel like my eyes are dead. That when someone else is looking at them, they're staring back and looking dead. Most of the time in my life, this isn't the case any more. But sometimes, rarely any more, but sometimes, it happens. I stare out with dead eyes.
...
Or with a feeling of indifference. Because most of you will never understand it.
...
Secretly, we're all searching.