School is out for winter. I don't care. I'm going to spending it the same way I always spend my time off school.

Manual labor cleaning the house. (I swear I'm in hell. It's like pushing a boulder up a hill only to have it fall further down. The job never gets done.)

Sleeping. (I've slept for over twenty four hours. Boy did I have to piss!)

Eating. (Gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins, and I unfortunetly suffer from it. Don't worry though, Lust and Sloth are still above it. Wrath sure has gone down a bit. I think I've settled down a lot.)

On the computer. (This is an evil device that I love like a mother loving lover of computers.)

I'll probably be become nocturnal again. AKA, sleeping in until the break of dusk.

~

I cut myself. Earlier this week. With a small razor. Not sure why actually. When I started cutting I had this rush in my heart. It's a rare rush. I only get it when I'm about to do something stupid and painful, or when I'm playing a video game and I've reached that point where I know I've got to win and there aint no turning back. It's a rare feeling because rarely do I play a video game that I haven't gotten memorized and burned into my brain, and rarely any more do I do stupid painful things.

I used to. I used to ride my skateboard down a steep hill and make a sharp turn. I end up knowingly falling off and hurting myself. Or maybe I'd be up on a roof or something and jump off and hurt myself. That was the good ol' days. Back when I had friends and something that resembled a social life.

Thing is, that's what it was about. I can bitch and moan like a mother fucker about how I was using physical pain to alleviate emotional and mental pain. And indeed, that is true. But there was a deeper purpose to it. I knew that people liked seeing other people hurt, and I am an entertainer.

Back to cutting... I've cut myself before. Earlier in the week I was holding a set of keys too tightly and I cut myself. Sometimes all I have to do is walk around the house and I end up bleeding. But this was pretty much the first time I cut myself intentionally like this. (Removing blisters, zits, and birth marks don't count.)

I got that rush at first... I know from other times I cut myself, as soon as the blade reaches a certain point it stings like a mother fucker and I jump around like I'm on hot coals. That didn't happen this time. Maybe because the razor I used was clean. I dunno. But it didn't even hurt.

It didn't fucking hurt.

In fact, I sliced another small incision just be sure. And I was like "This doesn't hurt at all."

It didn't hurt so much that I even carved the word "Love" into my arm. I plan on carving "Life" into my other arm.

But the fact is it didn't hurt. And in a way... that hurts. I only did it because I wanted to understand. Overstand even. Oversit?

I know why other people self-abuse themselves. I recently was inspiried to study these acts in great detail. Studied it to the point that I feeel I could counsel a cutter should the need arise. But... I couldn't -truly- overstand. Not until I did it myself.

So I did it. And I still don't overstand it.

I think it's because I don't have the feelings I used to have. Back in my wreckless entertainment days, I had lots of problems. Lots of issues. But I've worked them out by not giving a fuck. This strategy seemed to work in the short term because I just stopped giving a fuck.

This guy stole my CD player. He was a 'friend', sort of. And he asked to use my CD player for one period. But then when that period was over he seemed to think I gave it to him. Well I didn't front. I didn't care. Yeah, I was angry. For a bit. But I got over it. I stopped giving a fuck.

The long term effects of this strategy I can't say have been too pleasent. Because the monotony of every day life and the lack of giving a fuck leads to a tedious time of not feeling anything. As a friend of mine would say, "How do I feel? I -don't- feel."

That's why I guess it didn't hurt when I cut myself. Because I sure remember how much it hurt years ago when I so much as accidently cut myself with my own fingernails.

I guess the moral of the story is give a fuck. Give a fuck about SOMETHING. Something important. Maybe even something NOT important. I'm trying to give a fuck about important things like friends. Some new, some I haven't talked to in several months. I need to give a fuck about them if I hope to feel anything. And unimportant things too. Damn if I am to ever miss an episode of the new Ninja Turtles cartoon series. I grew up on that shit, and I plan on living on that shit. Because even the unimportant things are worth a good fuck give.

If you ever want to feel, you had better give a fuck. Even if all I'm feeling right now is depressed.

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Quote:

Originally posted by Bruklor Nec is just dumb

I'm taking that as a compliment.