Sighinide

I’m staring at my palms right now, and I can easily see the redness and scar lines against my pale skin.

The scars themselves look like ladders. Each line is equidistant from the next, except in cases where there is a crosswork patch of them, like, well… in most places, it seems. Wow. I sure did a lot of cutting. Yikes.

It’s a wonder that nobody has noticed this. I mean, natural wrinkles aren’t all the same size and evenly spaced from each other. Or- perhaps the reason nobody has said anything is because of the amount. The volume of scars makes them look “natural”, like that is the way my hands are supposed to be.

Or maybe it’s because of how I look. Everyone seems convinced that people like me (tall, blond, white, male) have no self image or emotional problems. I mean, I’m “privileged” which is supposed to grant me a supernatural immunity to such things. Perhaps the possibility never even occurs to them that I might have been a cutter so they don’t look for evidence of self harm.

Or, more realistically, they aren’t interested. What sane person actively looks for emotional problems in others? And who wants to fix somebody else’s problems for them?

Outside, I can hear the sounds of highway traffic and passing trains through the endless darkness. Not one of the people out there knows I was a cutter, or even cares. Which is how it should be.

I think too much.

Okay so… WHY do I want to cut myself? Why am I so depressed? Why do I feel like this now? Why am I ALWAYS feeling like this now?

I feel like I’m being used. No- I AM being used. I connect with people, work on their problems with them, try to help them, and then… nothing. They take my advice and use it to better themselves while working to ruin my future. Not all of them, of course, but ALOT of them do this. They use my advice and the confidence that I give them to suck their own country dry of all of it’s money and resources, thus impoverishing myself and everyone else. And they do this while plotting even more terrible things. And if these plans don’t work? Why, they’ll just leave, of course! Why would they stay to help clean up the horrible, nightmarish disasters that they’ve created?

Okay, that’s it. I’m done. DONE. I feel like a prostitute. No- at least prostitutes get money and compliments. I get nothing but a ruined future and a hole in my heart. I feel, honestly, like a sex slave.

I’m tired of being in relationships with people that I now suspect never really liked me or respected me that much in the first place. I want to be with someone without feeling like I should just kill myself because I had sex with them.

I think I deserve that. I don’t know, maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m just a big drama queen who has nothing to offer the world besides empty sex. I mean, I don’t THINK that’s the case. But if it is, then maybe I should just stick to fucking people that despise me. At least that way I’ll bring some happiness, however fleeting, into this gloomy world.

Or maybe I need to focus on the others. Katherine McNamara will never make me feel bad after seeing her. Ever. That will never ever happen. Ditto for Sammi Hanratti and Kira Kosarin and Stephanie Scott, and even Audrey Whitby. I had so many good relationships that I put on hold, or didn’t even start, because I wanted to “save” people who only cared about their bank accounts and didn’t even want to be helped. Ugh.

Truthfully, I’ve come to the realization that the near totality of American celebrities over the age of 30 are damaged goods. The adage “You shall know them by the company they keep” is very true.

If you support and promote brainless criminals like Obama and his accomplices, if your cultural world consists of the “authenticity” of the illiterate thugs of hip-hop, if you hang out with New York’s fraud kingpins, you yourself are likely a criminal and a big part of the reason why the world spits on American culture and “leadership” today.

So- honestly? FUCK. YOU.

ENOUGH.

Whatever it takes- no more thoughts of suicide. No more thoughts of self- harm. NONE.

All these thoughts of cutting brings me back to junior high school. I remember coming home after school, innocent of the wider world but still so lost and troubled. I would regularly cut myself in the bathroom as soon as I got home, before my parents came home from work. By the time they got home, the bleeding had stopped and the sink was clean, and I would be sitting at my old 486, playing Castle of the Winds while listening to Garbage’s first album.

Ah, the nineties.

Unlike a couple of my friends, nobody ever called me out as a cutter because I was “smart”. My cutting style was to make numerous smallish cuts instead of a single large one, so as not to leave noticeable scars, and I almost always cut myself in places where nobody would think to look for evidence- say, on the palms of my hands. You can’t easily distinguish between a matrix of scars there and common wrinkles. It was easy to lie about the band aids when I needed them. I could just say that I cut myself sparring, or that I slammed my finger into a door.

The cuts did, though, get in the way of me playing the guitar. I never did get that Smashing Pumpkins song right.

/ Nineties Angst

To whom it may concern: please note that I was just *thinking* about it! Don’t call the police, please. I’ll be fine.

La De Daa!

I just want to scream. Really, really loudly. I have to be so so quiet and bottle everything in and it hurts so much sometimes and I hate it. Fuck.

What I REALLY want, at least right now, is to go back to cutting myself. Seems like a fine way to pass the time.

I just want to feel that wonderful, addictive endorphin rush again. That, and I want a different kind of problem. I’m sick of worrying about the same old, same old problems. I want a new and novel one, and an injury is just the ticket. The accompanying light-headedness is a bonus. Lose enough blood and you get to escape for a bit! It’s just what I need.

I am sooooo well adjusted.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…

The one with Nicola Peltz under the tree.

Thursday.

Wait, can I take back my YouTube of the Day again? I think I’ll pick this one now.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=W1jLZbsD4nk

Database Programming. Cuz it pays the bills and there ain’t no party like an IT party!

I saw an update today in the local news about the local “African-American” cannibal zombie face eater.

A couple of weeks ago, a black woman was arrested for (what else?) attacking random white people. This particular incident happened down the street from me. She went on a crazy, incomprehensible spree where she tried to run over white people in her car, and when that failed, she got out and started punching people. When that failed she of course went even crazier and started biting their faces. Of course.

God, can the war officially start now? Please? I’m getting sick of this!