Seeing Red

The sight, smell and taste of blood disturb me in many different ways, but I can stare at my own with morbid fascination. The cutting is no one's fault but my own...and the best way I can explain it to people is always by comparing it to smoking a cigarette while under stress. It isn't good for me, over time it will lower the quality of my apperance, but it calms me down. Although for the record...setting Wednesday aside, I haven't had a "cigarette" in 3 or 4 months. Unfortunately I had six "cigarettes" that day. The important thing is that I regret it. Well, I think it's important. It isn't something I should get too comfortable doing. It's just a bad idea. Just like smoking, drinking and other unhealthy things that I rarely do...because they won't help me in the long run.
I think I want to find something else I can do when I get that stressed out. Besides ruining my inner arm...which by the way...itches where the scabs formed...
People say "well just draw or write".. if doing that calmed me down, I'd have books of art and poetry by now. But when I get that upset... I can't even try and do something like that, let alone do it to calm myself down. So there's got to be something else. No cigarettes, no razors, no bottles of alcohol, no cursing people...

As it is, I think the scars probably will scare people away.
Maybe they should?? Like a warning on a bottle of possibly caustic substances. The person can look at the disclaimer and then decide if they can handle it I guess.

I saw someone on the bus from school a few years back, and I was actually unnerved by it...they were pretty burly scars, but they looked self inflicted. Then again perhaps it was the guy himself that was intimidating and not the scars...he was rather tall and punked out and tattoo'd.

well ive lost my point, so im going to stop.

Mistakes? I know mistakes. Mistakes I make that define insanity. Doing the same thing repeatedly and achieving the same result each time. So...I know mistakes. I know pain, but not very well. For the most part I know depression, and how that can manifest as some sort of physical pain. But, there are worse things in life than depression. There is ignorance, indifference, and the other true evils of humanity. So, I'll try and count my blessings.

change

I think I'm painting with the wrong end of the brush, here. I can make as many motions with my hand as I want, with the end dipped in paint, but if I don't use the brush end, I'm just going through the motions, and nothing changes. That's a big thing for me right now. The absence of change. But things are changing. There's that saying that always irked me; "The more things change, the more they stay the same." I always found it stupid... but it makes sense now. I can change my room, my hair, my clothes, my voice, my career, my home, my diet, my friends, my actions... but I feel like it won't do anything. Although I guess I can't really know that without trying. I'm working on almost all of the things I named, actually, I just didn't realize it until this very moment.

I think the problem is...that I don't know what I want to change to.
How do I figure that one out??

One of my definite pleasures in life is making eye contact with strangers, and having that spark. Won't happen with a large percentage of people, sadly. With alot of people, it's just sort of uncomfortable.

That said, I spend so much time staring at this guy. I don't know him, and I probably never will. But when you have that common fear of rejection, affection, and familiarity, it's not such a bad thing. Besides, in not meeting him, I can wonder what he's like, and not have to worry about whether or not I'd be disappointed if I actually did talk to him. He has rather intense eyes though. So does his twin brother.

It's very late for me...I've been up early every day this week, so I'm probably not all here. That's okay though...I think less before I type when I'm tired...and that's perfect for a blog. Especially one that none of my friends know about...

One can never have too many journals.