damik's Diaryland Diary

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A stream

I don't know why my razor's decided to be ironic, but they have. On Friday morning I bought a five pack of single edges at the Family Dollar. For no reason really other then the desiere not to fight the desire anymore. I tucked them away in my purse and tried not to think about them.
Fast forward to today and its dark and its raining and the truck has stalled in the turn lane but the hazzard light aren't working so the people behind me don't know that I'm a distressed vecheal but I don't know that so I don't understand why they are still lining up behind me and they are getting angry and I can't fix it and I can't make it right I can't make it go and I call Will and I guess I embarass him because everyone around him can hear that I'm hystarical but I don't know that and I don't even realize that I'm so loud but he doesn't know that or doesn't care and I can't tell him where I am because all I can see is the traffic backing up and the fact that I can't do anything to fix it and he tells me if I don't calm down he's going to hang up on me but I beat him to the punch and watch as the phone bounces off the windshield.
Its been 284 days and I still fight it. I pulled the box of blades out of my purse, open it, and take out a single blade. It was then irony shone down on me. At times it feels in giving up cutting I've lost a close friend. On the brown paperboard, in bright red capital letters, is the word PAL. People offer to push me out of the way and manage to give my where-abouts to Will but I'm still hysterical because he was mad at me and I'm the stupidist girl on earth and it scared me and I couldn't control it and its been 284 days and I can't start over, I just can't start over because that means all I am is a failure and weak and worthless. So I call Trevor because he's the only one who will know what I'm talking about and he won't yell at me and he says he'll be right over because he's at his girlfriends who's only five minits away and I just wanted to talk but he hangs up and gets on his way but its not to bad because he's not mad at me. I bang my head on the stearing wheel some and bite myself some and another face appiers at my window, he offers to push me more out of the way and gets me onto the sidewalk the rainwater has made itself a little river in the gutter and I'm such a bitch I don't get out and help I just sit in the truck crying and half-heartedly stearing. Then he goes away and all I am left with is my PAL and the thought that I can't start over.
Then Trevor comes and comforts me and Will comes and doesn't talk to me. And we drive in silence and I hate myself for screwing up again. When we do talk nothing good comes of it and I think I should leave him because all I am is an embarassment to him. But truthfully I think I should kill myself because all I am is an embarrassment to him but I don't write that because I don't want to admit the thought has snuck in a couple of times. Instead I tuck it away to a secreat part of me where I hide truths and hope they die. And I still hold my PAL in my hand I haven't put it away sence I took it out of the truck and I unwrap it and the metal is black instead of silver and it would be a pretty contrast to the blood and I start to think I can start over or I stop caring about starting over I'm not sure which.
I started writing in hopes of distracting myself from a desire that started well over three hours ago, but it hasn't worked. I will play the waiting game some more, perhaps I'll take a nap. And we'll see. I'll see.
I fucking hate myself for even thinking about it. I hate myself for the fucking control and everythin else that wrong with me and I fucking hate myself because I'm an embarassment.

7:17 p.m. - 10-20-04
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