1013

graphic. triggering. you’ve been warned.
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i want to fucking bleed from the inside out until all that is left is raw tissue open to the stinging air. i want to scream as loud as i fucking please as my own salt tears burn deeper into the open flesh. i want. i want. i. i. i.
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therapy today = bad.
wanted to sit and punch my legs til they were b&b, but it has not come to that yet. apparently i’m still self-contained enough that i can refrain from hurting myself in front of people other than my cats. or. beings other than my cats? something like that.
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cats. i will prolly have another one, come monday. this will make people angry. but it is not in my nature to let a creature die needlessly when i can prevent it. and. ok, no. i *don’t* know for sure that it would be put to sleep if mum took it to the pound. but. but i don’t know for sure that it would be adopted, either. at least here…here maybe i can take it to the humane society and keep checking to see if anyone’s adopted her. and if not, i can bring her home again and…and i don’t know what comes next.
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i need to be asleep, in bed. about 2 hours ago. i am waiting for my soup to cook because i am nauseous and realized it’s cuz i went all day without eating anything but a few snickers bars (mini), a cupcake, a bag of cheez-its, and a handful of tostitos. and, i am cold. toast. i had some toast too.
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i am apparently going to my sister’s on saturday. because it’s her birthday (tomorrow) and also because mum will be there and…*shrugs* and cuz she asked and i didn’t feel like lying to get out of it. she informed me, when she called to ask, that her FIL does think, now, that it’s the head gasket in my car. and she told me to get it fixed. i told her it wasn’t gonna happen for a while. she told me i needed to get it fixed. i told her it was not an option right now. i can’t even afford the fucking monthly payment on my credit card, let alone put another 5-6 hundred dollars on it.
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i thoughti hoped the cymbalta was…working. doing something. why the fuck do i keep falling prey to hope?
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but hey. at least i have clean fuckin’ pants, eh?

whatever.