Rape victim. Suicide attempt survivor. Crazy. Emotionally unstable. Cutter. Overweight. Going gray. Bisexual. Sinner. Misunderstood. Alone. Unlovable. Diseased. Worthless. Unemployed. Uneducated. Dreamer. Arthritic. Shitty writer. Shitty singer. Disappointment. Faithless. Hopeless. Trapped. Afraid. Escapist. Gamer. Irritable. Fuck up.
Oh voices of never shifting doubt. Why am I so in need of a rock? Little barnacle with no rock to cleave to. I float along endlessly and aimlessly in my polluted, convoluted mind.
*sigh*
Today is a down day so far. I keep running into things and people that make me feel regret for my decisions.
I hate hives. I hate how I get stressed and get them all over my body. As if it's not enough I'm already a self destructive individual... Yes body, give me a reason to drag my nails over your pale skin that turns pink so easily. I enjoy the welts. I like the way it burns when I clean it with alcohol or peroxide. Most of all I enjoy the blood.
I have days that I fantasize about being beat up. Punched. Kicked. Treated like trash. I have days I want to be hated. I just don't understand why. But I'm too scared to analyze those thoughts. It's too much fun to wade around in them. The thoughts give me chills and are somehow relaxing. It's kind of... Euphoric.
They say I'm not crazy... what am I?
You are the image of the divine.
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