The cuts on my thigh I made the other day are slowly fading away. I was trying to evaluate last night just what exactly was the facination in me 'cutting myself'. I tried to sort out thoughts and organize feelings. Do something logical with this non-sense. But then I realized, this is the one thing in my life that isn't logical. This is the one thing in my life that wasn't planned on. That I can't control the urge to do, but I only control how deep the cut goes. That makes perfect illogical sense. My life is timed down to the perfect second. I wouldn't have it any other way. But is there some chance that on a subconscious level I don't want things to be this way? So cutting is a release to that along with other things included? I don't know and I'm yet to get the base of this whole conclusion. I can only say that I'm ashamed of what I did and I broke many promises. Hopefully, I can forget I've betrayed other people along with myself in reverting back to my old ways of dealing with things.
In a sick facinated sort of way, seeing that blood lets me know that I'm really here. I've got some purpose. I'm alive. I'm not really numb. It shows the precious substance of what we're all really made of. It's just water, blood, bones, and muscle really. Trivial. Sometimes I try to remember.. when I cut almost every other night all those months ago, what it was for. Was it because I was angry with how things were going and that was the only thing I could control.. or was it because I wanted to see the blood spill. I wanted to look at the scars to remind me of the exhilirating yet horrible secret of how I dealt with things? I got a shivering sense of pride when I'd lift up my sleeve, pull away my bracelets. I could tell you what every cut was for. What I was feeling. Was that why I did it? Another careless way to mark down every bad memory? I haven't discovered the whole ideal of it yet... and I don't want to. It's frightening really. I hadn't cut in months, yet, I could fall back to it immediately like I did only three days ago. I knew the routine. Razor, blood, facination, awe, the draining of anger, towel, scab, hiding. I knew the process and the order of how I used to do things. I hid the razor in my top drawer. I was falling back to it again.
I remember when I had Cande throw out all my knives and razors when she was at the house in April. I had her do it for me and I was done. I didn't feel the need to pick up anything sharp to cut myself with again. But suddenly now.. I found that razor.. and hid it in my dresser drawer. I can't do that anymore. I know I need to get rid of it lest I use it again. I dont want to use it again. But will I? I want to throw the razor out, but will I have the willpower? I had to have someone so close to me do it last time. Will I be able to do this on my own? We'll find out. I'll try later tonight.
I'm still debating. I'll set up another promise. If I can't throw the razor out tonight.. and I cut again within the next three months, I'll go back to therapy. I can't become what I became again. I'm not ready for a relapse into the depression I held back in September.
Surprisingly this time, I didn't cut because of Keisuke. It was emotions this time. But thats what it always was.. eventually what I turned into anyway. At first it was because of Kei.. but it turned into something else. Something so monsterous that not even I could handle it. I dont want to go back to that. No. I dont.
I'm tired of this house and this place. Mom and I say to each other all the time about how we want to go, 'home'. And for once, by home she doesn't mean Maine. She means Fort Campbell. But I've finally decided that I don't want to go back. What's the point? Well maybe I'd go for Erika.. and Toby. But other than that? I don't know. Brant--.. no I don't want to talk about that. I miss Fort Campbell, but I wont go back. I have a tougher will then that. It's a strange combination, yes, but it's something for myself. That past is past.. and it's going to stay that way.
Courtney
" I used to get away with so much.. Now I can't get away.. I even thought that It was simple.. to say the things I wanted to say. And you told me everything I wanted to hear. And you sold me.. and now I dont know how I should feel. " - Michelle Branch