2006-10-15
Nights like this.
It's nights like this that scare me the most. Nights that are the end of a perfectly reasonable day, a day where nothing horrible happened, but nothing fantasic happened either. Nights when there's a segment of time between when I'm done with the day, but before I'm ready to fall asleep, a time that is just prime for thinking. And thinking is what gets me in trouble.
I start to think about what I could be doing, what I should be doing, and of all the ways my life would be better. I start to rehash all of the most painful, embarrasing and agonizing moments of my life until I get to the point that those are the only things I remember. And that's when I get the urges to cut because this time it will really make everything feel better.
When it all began, I can't remember. There wasn't one monumental moment that I can pinpoint as the beginning, but rather it was just something that creeped into my life around the same
time self-consciousness began to become my primary focus. I do remember back in my freshman year of high school seeing the familiar marks on the ankles of Blondie, and being slightly jealous that her scars were large and purple while mine remained thin and flesh-toned, as if that was proof that she hurt more than I did, as if it were a contest.
But eventually, Blondie moved onto other things while I continued to carry this around with me. What can I say? I'm loyal to friends, relationships, and bad habits alike.
The worse period was right after high school, around the time I first realized that friends could turn on you, boyfriends can say one thing and do something else, and that my life was not going to be as idylic as I imagined. I still have scars from that time, up and down my left arm. I still have to wear long sleeve shirts or risk the chance someone will see and ask about them.
And though it's been awhile since I've last done it, I can still feel the urge in me, especially on nights like this when there's nothing else to distract me. I can feel my heart race, just a little, I can feel my forearms tingle in anticipation, and I can feel my will power give a bit. I guess it's one of those things you never lose, the way an alcoholic will always have the urge to have a drink or twelve. But it's nights like this that can really get to me.
corin82 at 12:16 a.m.