13.4.2000
It's raining!
It's funny, I'm never capable of reviewing some people's writing.
I mean, Chaos_Pixie wrote a story and I knew exactly what was
wrong with it and what I would have done differently. Instead,
people like Rob and Eq., them I can't review. It's not that I thought they were
so utterly good they couldn't better themselves but it's just
impossible for me to say exactly what's wrong. They have such a
different way of writing, I think. Different style. Oh, well. I
can't write at all. That's a fact. Sometimes I wish I could put
some poetry I've written on my page but I can't because a) I
haven't written any poetry (for a long time; this depends on
whether I decide to label that stuff as poetry) b) I utterly suck
at writing poetry. I mean, I really suck.
Which is a relief, actually. Or it could be a relief, if I wanted
it to be. I don't have to expose something to the whole internet
and listen to comments on it. Sometimes I'd like to. I adore
people who do (if it's even relatively good) because it requires
such an effort. You can't just write down whatever you happen to
think of, you have to work with it. I loved writing poetry in
school but it was too straining to do IRL. I've always been
terribly lazy when it comes to working on something.
I love rain. I love the sound our roof makes when the drops hit it. I had a Depeche Mode -night last night. To be more precise, 'Ultra' -night. I haven't listened to the record for quite a while now. It's not often that I have a feeling that exactly matches some record I own. Last night I had. It had to be Depeche Mode and it had to be Ultra. No other record was any good. Which is a bit weird because Ultra isn't even my favourite DM record.
Um, gotta study. I planned a few rants last night (well, I had nothing better to do) but if I do write them, I'm definetely not going to do it now.
There's a spoilered bit about cutting down here. You need to highlight it to see it (right-click the mouse and drag the cursor). This is intentional.
---
What am I?
Stupid?!?!?
Jesusfuckingchrist.
I cut my arm. First time I cut in weeks (I can't remember,
actually, but I supposed something like that).And I had to cut my
arm. I didn't think anything then. I was just… well, let's
nibble a bit on the underside of the arm. Wasn't satisfied, moved
up to wrist. Managed to cut four times when realized I'm going to
Stockholm next week. With my parents. In the same room. For four
days.
It's not like I wasn't in enough trouble with my scars.
*cry* i'm so fucking stupid. I can't take this. I hate this. Why couldn't I think of it earlier? Why? Why did I decide to cut, right now? I decided a few days back I wouldn't cut until we were back. At least I thought I decided. I didn't think of anything. I just needed to cut. It was like I wasn't even present.
The cuts
aren't deep. I couldn't make them deep. The razor blades are so
dull already. I need a proper knife. Thank god I don't have one,
though. Perhaps they'll heal sufficiently well before next
Tuesday. (Who am I trying to kid?)
--
I found
myself cutting. I didn't decide to do it, I didn't mean to do it.
I just cut. Like I had no control over my actions. That doesn't
happen often. Actually, I can't remember the last time. Usually I'm
well aware of what I'm doing. Which is why I can blame myself for
making ill decisions afterwards.
I feel so tired. The cuts are more like scratches.
I think the vitamin E lotion I've been using on my (very few) red
scars is working. Or then they're just fading on their own. I can't
tell, really. I don't usually cut deep enough to scar myself
properly.