I quit smoking. It’s been two days. I feel like shit. I can’t string thoughts or phrases together. I don’t know these things are connected.
I stole a razor blade from a friend’s house. I’m fantasizing about cutting but I can’t do it. My mum is coming to see me soon and she’ll notice. She notices these things. I’ll tell her about the cold dark cloud, the sleepless nights, the loneliness and the pain but I will not tell her about cutting or my thoughts of suicide. I don’t think she wants to hear that. Not that she wants to hear the other stuff either.
I love my job but I quit my job. I want to get the fuck out of this hell but I sometimes like it here. I’m feeling very conflicted. Wish I could stop wanting the slice up my skin. The quitting smoking has made me more edgy. I’m shaky and brainless