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I can't freaking sleep, can't work, can't read. All I do is sit here and think and think and over and above everything I see that wrist with bandages on it. I can't begin to describe the feeling of seeing it, knowing that she cut herself again... or did she just stick the bandages there, and say she cut herself? "An accident...scratches...it's nothing...last night was messed..." It's awful to doubt a person's word, but with all that's happened...
It fucking frustrates me, because I know deep down that it's for the attention, and I honestly don't know how to deal with it anymore. I've tried being there for her, but the attention she seeks is smothering. I feel awful for the others, because now they're caught up in the whole mess as well. It's not even eight months. Broken promises, faked smiles, alcohol-induced confessions.

In your eyes, I can't help but wonder why
You think you leave all when you die.
Forget all who cared, that you've loved,
self-pity in tears are only self-served.

IwillnotfeelbadIwillnotfeelbad IwillnotfeelbadIwillnotfeelbad Iwillnolongerfeelbadorguilty Iwillnolongerbeguiltedintocaring nomorenomorenomore.

It wasn't so much as not thinking than it was pushing things to the back of my mind. I'll admit that now.

Currently listening to: Radiohead's Street Spirit (Fade Out)
Current emotion: fed-up
Random observation: bah humbug.