And I think, I'm just a little addicted to you...
No, I'm not talking about Jake, although I suppose I quite easily could be.
I have something of an anger problem. It tends to stay directed at members of my family so none of you would ever see it. None of you would ever see the nearly uncontrollable rage I sometimes get into. Where I literally have next to no control of myself and I am consumed by anger. I'm glad I can't remember it properly afterwards, I am sure the feeling is a horrible one. I remember what happened, but the way I was feeling is fuzzy.
Not at Deborah anymore. We get along really well these days. But my relationship with my dad is deteriorating. And also before, when we got into fights, I was always fairly calm but on the rare occasions when my dad made me angry, I have tried to bite him and hit him etc. Mum and I used to fight a lot, this is from year 7 onwards, and I'd get angry at her all the time, but not as fiercely as the rare occasions with Dad. I'd get like this with mum sometimes too, but ehh still very very rarely.
Practically the only control I have over myself then is stopping myself from swearing, and that is only just. I usually have to say it under my breath, or something. Or scream something else that tends to be completely incoherent.
Mmm anyway so I was up till 4 30 the other night attempting to download Spirited Away onto the computer. My parents realised I was still up and came in and were yelling at me, but like, in whispers. Because they know how little I've been sleeping, but I won't tell them why. So they keep going on about how it's coz I'm not exercising enough.
Anyhow, so this was all like rahhhhhhhhhh. And I was so angry coz Dad switched off the computer and downloading was taking ages and it had just reached about 75%. So I was hell dev'd aha.
But they were ranting and I lost it. Mum was saying how I was going back to the stage I was before the holidays, meaning when I'd overdosed, and I was screaming "No, I'm not, I'm fine except for what you make wrong" because I am fine as I can get. And so she was like "then why are you sleeping so little, you don't eat right, you don't sleep right, you are killing yourself!" My response, "no I'm not I AM FINE", and dad was saying this stuff too and then mum was saying that I was stressing them both out and not letting them sleep and that i was ruining our whole family
And I seriously have been okay, but it's her saying stuff like that that fucks me up, I can't stand people telling me how I think, mum and dad both tend to do that, and I'm like no, you've got me all wrong, I am NOT like that. And her essentially telling me that I'm messed up, at that stage it makes me incredibly upset.
Ehhhh anyway. So I got real angry. I was about to hit my mum in the face with my drink bottle but I restrained myself enough to hit her as light as possible so it couldn't really hurt like on her arm. Because if I didn't do something I would have exploded. And I didn't want to do even that >=(
Mmm so anyway. Afterwards. I craved, so badly, to cut. (You may want to stop reading. Specifically you Kate >.<) Because, it is comforting. It wasn't even for the pain that I wanted it. The sheer violence of it, but calm; disguised violence. The blood. It is amazingly pretty. I have something of a fascination with my blood. And like, those gothic pictures? With the people and sometimes there is blood, it is gorgeous. >.< It's just, blood is so amazing. It is the thing that gives us life, well one of the things. And watching it drip, it's special. Eeeep now I sound psycho. This I really should keep just for my diary.
But I just still had that rage, simmered down and bottled but not quite subsided yet. Although I was very calm, after that. Not in that cold white way that rage sometimes goes to. Just calm. Okay. And I could picture getting a blade, holding it to my arm, pressing it, feeling the slight pressure. Then going deeper. I barely cut like that. Cutting slow was always the hardest. And to keep going. It takes a lot of nerve, or a lot of pain or being upset, or anger. But it's better. And to watch the blood slowly well up in beads, staying there for a point along a fine red line, until the surface tension breaks and it spills out, coursing in rivers along my skin. >.<
It slightly, vaguely worries me that I would take out my anger on myself. Or want to. I haven't. And I don't plan on it. But it's beyond hurting myself. It's good. It's addictive. Sometimes I want to do it merely for the sake of the blood. However, usually, I go with the quick strokes as fast as possible, it's easier. ohmygod I am so sick in the head lol. So now you know one of the most fucked up things about me. I have very dark blood by the way. And my blood is an amazing colour ^_^ I love it. It's dark and deep and rich maroon, a royal shade of red...
Blood from your arms and legs is thinner, more watery. Bleeds a lot. Stomach is rather more disappointing, the blood is thicker and does not flow...
Agh. Okay. Biology.
I should have kept that to myself.