| She's annoyed now. "Can you write it down?" I started to but decided against it. "Nevermind" I was so upset, almost in tears! How could she be so rude and dismissive of me? Now I know we all have things to do, but how long does it take to say "...hold on." and listen to the one sentence I had to say? November 3, 2001 OK, so I'm feeling anxious first of all and seriously thinking of cutting. The thing is, this is totally self induced. What happened was this: I just got back from seeing "From Hell". I liked it, but it was disturbing and the cause of my present malady. But on the up side, I’m typing faster than ever! I liked it for several reasons. One, it was an interesting story and two, it was also complex and layered, not just the typical anything. But the problems ensued almost immediately. First it focuses largely on prostitutes. I've always had my issues with prostitutes on both ends of the spectrum. With my twisted views of sexuality, I've always respected prostitutes for making a life when there was none, for using what was their downfall to survive. I've always wanted to be as free with my sexuality as my idea of a prostitute. I remember in grade school imagining myself to be a prostitute instead of a doctor or even a mother. Prostitution, I thought was the perfect job: you had sex, which you enjoyed and men paid to be with you. I think I admired prostitutes because they were a more accessible version of the porn stars I was forced to imitate as a child. But then I always thought myself a whore and so I hated them (the only ones I knew had anything to do with sex) for it. At this point I feel it necessary to define the terms. A prostitute is a beautiful woman who is paid for sex. A whore is a woman who is vulgar and dirty. She is extremely liberal with her sexuality; she'll have sex with anyone. I hated the fact that I wanted sex, that I was attractive, and told myself I was a bad person for even thinking about it. Now, being that I was exposed to sex at a very young age and have had a few negative experiences with it, I'm a very sexual person in my nature. A lot of my cutting was because I proclaimed myself a whore and had to be punished for it. Once I remember seeing my mother dance with a man and then scratching the word “WHORE" into my leg before I cut it. Back to the movie, there was a lot of blatant sex and the occasional sexual symbol, but that is to be expected, sex sells after all. There was a lot of blood and anytime I see blood in a movie, I have this desire to make myself f bleed . The murders were ghastly and very connected with sex. Now with me there's the whole "I'm a bad person for thinking about sex" but then pain is very soothing at times. During the movie I felt the anxiety. I was so frustrated by everything around me, especially that there were some friends of mine down the row, talking and being sooooo unnecessarily loud. The movie was over and I got out. I couldn't talk. I didn't. On the ride home, I started thinking that I haven't seen my therapist in a while, three sessions I think. I don't want to see her. I have nothing to talk to her about. I love her and all, but all this talking...it's pointless. I need Sleep. God I'm so "GOSH DARN" easily influenced. The last time I cut was after seeing Stigmata and the main character was cutting herself. And then there's the matter of the shabby treatment of mentally ill/crazy people in the movie....their "new" treatment was three strategically places blows to the head to render the person just brain damaged enough that they could carry on life processes and make sentences, but nothing else. I was sitting next to a fiend of mine, who happens to be Bi-Polar and she says, "I'm glad they don't do that anymore, or we'd be in trouble." November 10, 2001 I had a fight with my roommate today. She says I give up too easily, but she doesn't take into account that I actually do things when she's not around. November 13. 2001 I really, really want to cut now. I've been thinking about it for the past couple of days. Earlier today I was thinking that if I cut myself really bad or faked a breakdown I wouldn't have to take my Art History test. Back to the matter at hand, I'm not even sure why...I just want to. I do feel really depressed, but that's not new. My roommate and I are getting along fine-there’s the argument once every couple of days, but that's not new either. I HATE FEELING LIKE THIS. I had two big tests today and I had to study till late last night, maybe it's stress related. I'd like to think that there's no chance t hat I'll cut tonight, but I don't know what I'll do. I have friends across the hall that I can tell, but I won't. Even though they've always been helpful and supportive, I just can't tell them. They don't know what I'm feeling and they have better things to do than to listen to me whine. I'll probably sleep with my razor tonight. And speaking of tonight, I have a quiz in Japanese that I should be studying for. I've spent a long time laying in my roommate's bed - I've taken to this recently - just being sad and I can't do anything now. I'll just have to study in the morning. That is if I don't die in my sleep. And then there's the feeling that I can't cry anymore. Lately, well for about a month now, whenever I'm sad and I want to cry, it doesn't happen. I'll really be upset, and I usually cry at that point, but I can't. I guess the Prozac really worked. January 6, 2002 I got a small job today, I helped out at a dinner party. It was fun, but there was a lot of cleaning up. I helped people with their coats and getting food and stuff. I really enjoyed it. The people were a bit more well-off than I was, but they were nice. The only thing was that I had to remove my lip ring and IT CLOSED! It's not exactly closed, I got a needle to go through it, but nothing larger. It started bleeding and I left it alone. I thought I could open it further with a fork, but I decided against it. I couldn’t sleep for some reason. I got home at about 1:00 am and I was so tired, but no sleep. I used the computer for a couple of hours and then got in bed, but was still awake. At about 5:30ish I got in bed and refused to get back out. |