Entry 02

Today,

I’m covering a bleeding gash with a single tissue paper.

I’m thinking about how I am more of a bruise than a human being, and I don’t care about it anymore. Please don’t ask me who I am. Because you’ll hate how much I’ll say, and you’ll end up afraid.

 (I’m tired of all the women that I am).

I drift into nothingness and the outside voices sound so muffled it scares me. But I don’t do anything about it. I let their words drift in and out while I sit there shocked and hating the fact that I show. That I am not imaginary. That I am real, and people can do whatever they want with it.

If I were able to crack my skull and let you in, all you would hear is screeching noise. No no, don’t worry, I won’t do it. You’ll be terrified and disgusted, I know that. I wouldn’t do that to you.

What am I even saying right now? I can’t seem to express to you just how dark it is in me. I’m sinking and there’s too much water in my lungs and I want everyone that knows me to forget that they ever saw me. Does that help you understand?

I’m not very good with words today. Sorry. I’ll try again some other time. Maybe you’ll still be around.