• one more exam left, the big scary 3 hour indonesian one, for which i have done not one ounce of study. art wasn't too bad, it wasn't great, no where near 'deep enough' but i'm pretty sure i passed. i wonder though, when did i become this girl? who cries and slices in an attempt to be free from her own thought, her own body, her emotions. when did i decide i wanted blades and scars, the physical and mental harm? it's clear now, that cutting isn't going to take me to the same place that it used to, so why do i persist? is it this stupid human quest for a fucking nirvana? is peace of mind to much to ask for? last night, even as i cut i knew it wouldn't help, just another scar, on top of another, adding to the mental har, why the fuck? i don't understand, and if i don't understand, there's no fixing it. there though, is one known, hard to come by fix to the physical pain, your touch baby.it can calm the physical fury that rages inside. the mental cure? well i haven't found one yet.

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