That I wrote most of this last night, the day it happened. And then MedHelp went down and pissed me off. So pardon me if I forget any inane details I normally wouldn't.
Like, worst night of my life kinda bad night. It feels very...surreal. I didn't feel like I was in control, I took my meds late and wasn't worried about getting into bed, I was in bed. Lights out, i was lying there and I should mention the fact that the last few days I've been having some funky hallucinations. I've been seeing a lot of big bugs, freaking out, losing sight of them, and then spending a lot of my time looking. I'm always sure this is the time I really didn't imagine it, and it's really gonna get me. So I was in my room. And I just felt like ****. I don't know why, I couldn't get death off my mind and growing up and losing things and people and I sent three texts to steve. That's what I do when I freak out. I text people to take my mind off it all. Usually with visual references. The first is a picture of me crying. Which embaresses me a lot, except when I'm all drugged up? Then I guess I just don't really think about it. It's a whole paragraph of me worrying and asking him to still play guitar for me when we're old and silly things like that. The second is a picture of the mannequin that's been in my room for about a year. That's one of those things that either wigs you out, or doesn't. Not something that changes. But I've mulled over it before, and it never bothered me. Not at all. Last night, I felt a strange urge to keep an eye on it. I kept glancing off the side of my bed and I just had this strange feeling it was watching me. Uhh..it doesn't have a head. I'm actually getting red and really anxious thinking about it right now. I have a clear visual of the door. All the doors, actually. I ended up taking the mannequin out of my room, and putting it in the hallway. Then I took my guitar, because it was near it, and putting it out there with it. I then pushed my rather heavy night stand in front of the door. After that I still continued to cry, despite being locked in my room, conpletely alone. Usually I hope no one hears me, but all I wanted was my mom to come down and keep me company. I woke up this morning with cuts all over my ankles and two across my left wrist. Let me get this straight, that's not the kind of person I am. I don't do that. I mean, I had my days too, when I was depressed a while back, but I got over that all. Most scars heal, you know? It's been far and few between, for me. And in places you don't see. These? Plain sight. I don't know why this is the only thing I thought of at the time and the only thing that ended my panic attack, I just know it did. I was hyperventilating for hours and then I just fell asleep. I have to bandaid my wrist because they're a bit too convenient for coincindence, it's noticable. I also have to use the fabricy clothe bandaids because the sheer ones are see through. What kinda ******* idea is that? I don't wanna see that ****. This is bad because I am allergic to the clothe bandaids. I had one on my stomach once and broke out in a bad rash for weeks.
Speaking of rashes, I have another rash on my face. I'm not very worried, it's so friggin common. Left side again. Always the left side. Starts next to my eye and spreads down my cheek and above my eyebrow. Down the side of my jaw. It's red, and not just when I scratch it. Not like a blush red, it's a splotchy red. Like pixels.
I have a swimming birthday party this Saturday and. Well I used to really be a little freak and there are all these pictures I still see around once in a while of a pool party, and everyone's in just bathing suits. So am I, but I'm also wearing regular, bright pink socks. At the time..it was just Oh Kristina! silly girl, wearing socks to a pool party! And I just declined taking them off. Constantly. I wore them swimming in a lake everyday at camp, all summer, all winter. For a year or two, actually. But I got over myself, really. I have a load of ******** stories to my name. Eventually one day I picked up my balls off the floor and wore shorts. Well, and stopped wearing shorts when I swam. I wore a pair of sandels. I still think I look funny in them. I put a skirt on. I cut my hair. I stopped piercing myself when I was lonely, or upset. People who knew me, know me, anything. Some of them had me figured out to a T, and they probably know what the scars are, they had me read like a book. Scars that look like Wolverine attacked me? Skatepark. Across my leg about four inches and still bright red to this day? I was running in the woods. I ran through prickers. I tripped over a gerbil cage. Everything under the sun, with a monotonous, boring story. Those are the believeable ones. And if they don't believe me..oh well. Someone else will vouche. I am that much of a clutz.
I worked. Ice cream in the International stand, with two chinese girls. Awesomest ever. Chinese girls look adorable when they eat ice cream. I don't usually like softserve, but I ate a cone. Visited Richie at the candy store, cookie was working too. It was pretty uneventful otherwise. I cashiered?
I went to steve's after. We were gonna watch My Bloody Valentine, but his sister had people over and we got shafted to the upstairs and I fell asleep in the middle of the red soxs game. He also sent some messages to shei I would have a lot of trouble bullshitting my way out of. I'm really stuck here. I am, currently, avoiding two messages, and a comment.
The worst part is the thing is still in the hallway.