What do I do on nights like these? I cannot bother sleeping bodies, I cannot find waking bodies to talk to. I can talk to paper, talk to air, talk to nothing, talk to the nothingness, le néant. I could send e-mails, send text messages, write letters to send in the daylight, but no one is here to talk to. In all honesty, what the fuck am I supposed to do?
I made art, I made art, yet I am supposed to be making a website. All I want to do is make everything right. I don't feel ok. I am so far from ok, I forgot what ok is supposed to feel like when you actually feel ok, and aren't lying about it.
My aunt is dying. I ate the pasta she cooked for us a few days ago. That will probably be the last time she makes it. Fuck. I need a hug, I need a hug like an addict needs their fix. I am an addict though, so I guess that simile doesn't work as well as it ought to.
I can't stop shaking, universe. I can't stop crying. I can't stop feeling like nobody cares. I see my mom in the morning, I say hi. She goes out, then I go out. I come home and she is watching television (this is around 8pm). I watch some tv with her even though I don't care to. I go into my room, later I will say goodnight. We repeat this night after night, not really connecting.
My sister will not let me touch her. I can't even tap her on the shoulder. She freaks out. I asked her for another hug today, and she said she doesn't give hugs. I asked again, and she said she would. One arm rested at her side, her hand clutching the bag she calls her best friend, and the other embraces me.
"It's not really a hug unless you use both arms," I say. She smirks, then walks past me.
Universe, I do not know if I am strong enough for camp this year. Every year I've always stopped cutting about a month before I go. I never cut in the summer, never at camp. I have scabs, I have newly healing scars. I have desire and compulsion. I am so scared of being discovered.
Universe, I have been cutting for 5, maybe 6 years now. I have yet to really get better. I have yet to stop cutting for good. I have yet to love myself enough to stop.
And these nights seem to just get worse and worse. What am I supposed to do when they get worse than this? What am I supposed to do? At best, anything this late is an annoyance to anyone. An annoyance, and for what? So I can stop feeling sad for a bit? So I don't cut myself? Big fucking deal. I'm supposed to know how to deal with things on my own, aren't I?
I read the wikipedia on a book that there are currently no requestable copies of at the library. It states nothing matters as much as we think it does. In fact, it barely matters at all. I don't know if this idea makes me feel better or worse right now.
It's 4:00am.
I am sorry universe for putting you through this. I feel like you can handle anything I tell you because you are so large. Large enough for the earth and all its problems.
Goodnight.
-A,L.
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