when I saw her today my mother was crying. there’s something wrong. my mother doesn’t cry. she is the heartless bitch that assumes that I sleep with every guy I lay my eyes on. she is so strong, in her glare, her opinions. WHY DID SHE CRY?
I feel guilty. while my mother was crying I was pressed into the wall against the church. hooking up with j. my lips are raw now and my mother’s eyes are rimmed red.
its getting to the stage where I cant look myself in the mirror anymore. I hate what I see so much. its easy to starve yourself, for a few days. its harder to keep it up. its hard because our bodies make us eat without knowing. cookies offered here, just that one piece of bread there. im not determined enough. plus I don’t excersise. why am I expecting myself to be thin?
so. its all shitty now. I was happy yesterday, wasn’t i?
lying in bed, forsaking homework for watching fight club.
its time to start cutting again. maybe. but I cant remember if that actually made me happy. did it? burning works too. fuck it works. even a match, just put out. against my wrists. pain. sharp clean pain.
right now I have to write 1200 words on the role of women in Sparta.
right now I want to sleep it all away
right now i just cant be bothered.
waiting on a second hand pick me up.
- September 23, 2009
- donotresuscitate
- No Comments
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