Today I am having a day of realisation. There are no doubt many causes for this and there's no doubt that most of them will sound stupid to you. Last night I had a very bad night. I knew it was coming and I knew that no matter what any psychiatrist or caring friend said I could not avoid it, and I couldn't. For days now I've known, I've been practising for it and working up to it and feeling so utterly lifeless that I'm surprised I managed to do it.
But I did. The first aid supplies holding my arm in place are testament to this. It hurts, of course it does, but it feels like a deserved hurt - a hurt that I've earned. I feel sick, and probably sound it too, but at the same time I feel calm - because I have quelled the beast inside and fed to him his ritual serving of blood, until the next time.
I feel devoid of an identity today, lacking in direction. Christianity today is a distant hope, and happiness a far-fetched dream. Dutifully I came into college today, wrapped up like an eskimo.