Wednesday 23 November 2011

Fuck.

So... this evening has not gone well.

It started with hunger. So I ate, and then ate a bit more, then nibbled a bit more, then snacked, and ate and ate and ate, and by Christ I feel sick... what in seven hells did I do that for?
Fuck, I knew it wasn't natural for me to go so long without fucking up, and now it's just been one short spiral down into fully fucking breaking down. I was getting self-harm urges half an hour ago, that's how low I've gone. I haven't cut in years, but I don't think the urges ever go away. They get rarer, sure, but when they come back, suddenly I'm that pathetic 13 year old again, hating herself enough to rip her body apart. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

Now I'm crying. I'm curled up in my bed listening to songs that I know will make me cry, letting my thoughts go all the places they're not meant to go- to her, and her, and him, and them, and me and me and me, and that time, and those days, and that place, and fuck fuck fuck fuck

And so on and so forth. (You can imagine an interval about now while I hyperventilate a bit and sob into my hands.)

What if I can't actually do this? What if I'm always going to be this way? It all felt a bit like a dream, all this progress... how quickly might it reverse? Christ, I'm tired, I'm so tired of being me, I'm so fucking sick of my little idiosyncracies, my little issues, my bloody fucked up mind, how did I get this way? What made me this way? Why am I so fucking unnatural?

Ugh.

I need you, where are you? Where are you? Why don't you need me too? Please. Please. Help me. I need you. I need you.

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