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I really just want to lie down, and stay there for the next few days. I'm tired, and since my blood tests I feel as though I'm free for a little while.
Now, my sense of freedom isn't the same as other's. My sense of freedom is more "Look, I can bruise, beat, burn, cut myself for the next few months and not worry about being found out." or "I'm alone now, I wonder how quick and painless that would be." My freedom is scary, for me.
The really entertaining thing is that my mom saw my wounds. She saw them, neat in straight little lines parading up my arm. Three long marks, ever so slightly angled. And I told her it was the cat, and I told her I've stopped hating myself. Bullshit. I hate lying, but at this point it doesn't even matter. Nobody cares, no body wants to find out. So let it stay that way.
So now I'm going to curl up with my iPod, and hopelfully drift off to somewhere where it's usually okay to be me. |
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Posted by lingeringmemory on 2008-04-18 23:40:24 | Rating: | Views: 67
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