Sunday, November 30, 2014

Bowling.

If I could just have my razors back.
If I could just have that "high" once again where for a short while nothing exists and I'm becoming nothing myself, and then, serenity. 
But nope, I woke up at five eighteen. 
Why so early?

I want to be normal. 
I want to stress about exams, I want to be overly embarrassed by sexuality because somehow, it will matter to pretend that I'm very innocent. 
I want to wear colours for fuck's sake! I had tired from wearing the same colours, only because I feel comfortable within the fabric. 

I deserve my thighs to become a bloody mess. 
I deserve this pain. 

I want to know if they still sell the flagellate Christian tools. 
I have heard about cilices.



It's five thirty, and I'd more than just like to tell you how I've spent the day!
At morning, five eighteen, I woke up, listened to music, and blogged until seven.
I really didn't want to do anything, not even breath, I felt nothing, numb.
So I went to school, naturally I suffered through the first two periods of Maths, I started writing my pros and cons of suicide and self harm there, personally, I believe that I'm going to stick to self harm than to even pathetically try to commit suicide.


I've returned from the bowling, I've noticed that my mood worsens at the evenings.
It was nice to be there, nicer than the practice.
I also bought pantihose! It's in that lovely dark-red-burgundy-wine colour! And two knee socks, one pair is long black with the two school-girl stripes, and one is plain grey.

Good night, and fun fact to you: Taking a fluoxetine 20 mg capsule with a 5 mg pill of desloratadine on an empty stomach is a horrendous idea.

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