| January 7, 2002 I was tempted to cut on Saturday the 5th, but I didn’t. I wanted to be strong and resist; it had been so long since the last time. Sunday the 6th , I woke up and was very depressed and I to stay in the bed and I did for a while. I eventually got up and went to church, which was very good for me. It was much needed, just to be with the people and everyone was extra affectionate for some reason. I was happy. I got home and talked with my mom about insignificant things and went to a friends house. I can’t take any more time in my own. I saw on old friend and I’m so worried for her; she’s even more messed up than I am. Her sister was telling me that she might not want me over, she can be very anti-social. But luckily she still likes me out of the masses that she’s dismissed. I’m not sure what’s wrong with her, she used to cut, but I don’t know anything now. She was in a mental hospital for a little while, but she’s fine with me, I just wish she would talk about what’s really going on. Then again, I’m just glad she still talks to me. So I went to another friends house, Shari and that was cool until I wanted to leave to got to the neighborhood piercing place and everyone (overprotective as usual) was like "Oh my god, it’s dark" "You can’t go out this late" "You’ll get lost" "It’s too far". I was not happy with that. It was 6pm in a town much safer than my own and I can be just a little stubborn. "What’s the worst that could happen?" "Maybe you’d get hurt or something and everyone would be sad" "Or maybe I’ll die and everyone would be happy" "Why would that make us happy?" "One less person to yell at" I wasn’t going to go if the consensus of the people who cared about me was that I shouldn’t; they were just trying to help and how foolish would it be to disregard help. If I had gone, just to punctuate the situation, I would have probably ended up dead in a ditch somewhere. I finally left, but with a ride and hopped a cab back, another friend the one with the messed up sister came with me. I had to get one of my piercings adjusted. It turned out to be a lot farther than I, in my infinite wisdom, had assumed and it suddenly started snowing heavily. Out of nowhere, windshield wipers were going on and the hugest snowflakes I’ve seen in my life were piling up and visibility, even walking was diminished. So I get back and everything was fine, but then Shari has to go and ruin it by asking how I was feeling. Why, oh why, oh why, do people care about me so much? I don't love me, why should they? I really, don't want to talk about how I'm feeling at this point, but anyway...We start talking and she's explaining that it was dark and she knew of a girl who blah, blah, blah... I was telling her how ridiculous it was and how I'm not locking myself in my house every night after the sun goes down. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. I didn't go" "I know you didn't go, but I'm concerned about how you feel about it." I started telling her how I hated being home and wish I could go back to school. That I didn't fit in here, that the people around me were too conservative. Life is all different when you don't have to ask your parents permission. Shari is younger than me, but even the people I know here of the same age live with their parents. Now that is not bad in itself; I live with my parents, but when you do, there are so many more restrictions and your not free. That's what I miss about school: if you want to go out, you go out. If you want to sleep over, you sleep over. You do whatever. And very importantly, my friends at school have CARS! It annoys me top no end that my friends here have no cars. When I get lonely, the obvious thing is to get some people together and do something, but no one can get anywhere...and they expect me to, get this, take the bus! When I'm at school, I take the bus to class and that's different. The busses are private, frequent, and only go around the campus. I hate taking the public busses. And I refuse to unless it's absolutely necessary. Taking the bus to the mall is one thing, but to take the bus to someone else's house and then take it back, in the cold...I guess I'm just spoiled. Oh, and let me not forget to mention the fact that I’m getting fat. So, whatever. I go into the living room and lie down on the couch. It was nice and dark and I decided not to respond to her except to say I'd come upstairs later. I'm all depressed now and I really want to cry, but it doesn't happen. Stupid Prozac! So I'm considering my alternatives: talk to some one, cry, try not to cut, or just do it. Decisions, decisions, decisions. I decided that I wasn't going to cut right away, I'd wait to see if it was necessary. I called my roommate, hoping she'd be home. It was about 12:0sometning. I told her how I was feeling and that if it was as bad tomorrow, I'd cut. I was crying. She was asking why I felt like I didn't fit in and blah, blah, blah. I told her I'd call her tomorrow. So I was alone again and with no razors. I didn't want to use the family's knives. I asked Shari for a safety pin and retreated to the bathroom. I couldn't believe I was going to do it again. I left the bathroom and somehow lost track of the pin. It wan dark and I lay down next to the heater. And then it happened. I started burning my fingers on the heater and it was good. When I touched it, it wasn't hot at first and then it built up and it burned. And when I moved my hands a shiver went through me. I did it again and again and I realized it was not enough. I wanted blood. I got up and I grabbed a little pair of scissors in the bathroom, they looked sharp, but they weren’t, no blood. I scratched the same line again and again and no blood. I realized I was taking a long time in the bathroom. I retreated downstairs and opened the refrigerator door. In that light I started again. One of the girls come downstairs and I had to stop before she saw me. And there was still no blood, but it was effective; I felt better. I took some grapes from the refrigerator and went upstairs. |