I thought things were good. I thought things were really good. But I’m also thinking I’m getting bad again…. I just don’t know if I’m up or down or what even anymore. And I’m scared. Terrified. What if things are worse than I thought….
I’m picking my nails again. They feel weird and wrong and they bother me. I want to just rip them off and have new nails, good nails. Correct nails. What the fuck even is “correct nails”? I’ve dreamed of long pretty nails, forever since I was young. I thought I kicked this nail biting habit. But I’m picking them, I’m biting off the weird frayed bits, I’m peeling them, I’m just having them in my mouth. It’s disgusting, I want to stop it. But I’m disgusting….so maybe I just will never kick disgusting habits.
I’m pulling my eyelashes again. A stress habit, a nervous habit, an anxiety habit. It’s been a while. And I’m not yet pulling them out in huge amounts, but……its only a matter of time before that’s a thing again. Small bald patches, it’s weird and ugly. But it seems fitting maybe, I dont know. Weird and ugly things for a weird and ugly thing. I have the double eyelash row gene, and shouldn’t it be pretty, shouldn’t they be thick and long and lovely? Instead they sometimes curl downward and poke my eye and hurt me, and feel like they’re growing weird and ugly.
One time I read something about how someone accidentally ripped their eyelashes out with a curler. It still makes me cringe a little, because ouch. But same time, theres a little glimmer of…..maybe I’ll “accidentally” do it, and I’ll have to start again with new baby eye lashes. How wonderful. I can maybe try to not have them turn downwards again……. but they turn downwards because I bend them I think, when I play with them. It’s my own fault I guess. I don’t know. But no matter what, it’s still gonna be weird and ugly, and me….
This next section, trigger warning I guess? Though no one reads anyways I think so. It doesn’t matter. I don’t know. It’s for me mostly but. Who knows. I dont. I guess maybe next couple sections. Stop reading here maybe.
I haven’t cut myself in 4 years. I promised two people I wouldn’t, and I didn’t. One, he’s gone I guess. And that’s good. One less person to disappoint if I do?
And I probably won’t, but sometimes I want to. Just a little. I miss the marks I miss the hurt. I even kinda fucking miss the little blood. It feels weird to admit it, it feels almost wrong. But at least physical pain is a……pain that feels ok?
I feel like I’m only shallowly happy, in a way. Like I’m faking any happy feelings. They feel temporary, and I’m chasing them. Like chasing a high? I’ve never been an addict, or closely known an addict (during their addiction) so I’m not certain of the feeling. But I just……I want an escape so bad, even just for a moment. To not be myself, to not have these thoughts, to stop being alone with these thoughts. And I know I’m bad again. Even though I’m doing the right things, I’m doing the self care and the functioning and all the things you need to do, working and activities and being kinda social even.
But I guess that means it’s worse, it’s so much worse……