Sunday, March 04, 2007

Day 193

Why does raw cookie dough taste so, very nice? Nicer than cooked cookies in fact. "Yes, I am sitting here eating Cookie Dough ice cream." I'd rather have a spoonful of the actual mixture, but I'll settle for the little balls I have, mixed up in sickly sweet vanilla. "Yes, I am allowed. Its the rules."

This, (see above) would be part of the reward scheme that I have been trying out today. Do a bit of cleaning, tick something else off the four page long 'to do list' and get little rewards in between each task. A cup of tea, a fag, an episode of 24, adding to my iTunes and lo, a potentially miserable day has been saved by a kiddie reward system. I should have stickers.

Friday was a bitch and I slept on the couch, all night. Saturday was goddam awful, (woke up crying and quite frankly, just wanted to end it all) but managed to crawl into town to meet my twirly (haired) friend. "Yeah, yeah stop whining you should be thankful that I haven't written anything for the last three days." And now it is Sunday - the official day of rest that is never actually restful. Do you know, when I was working, I never, ever, ever had the Sunday dread because I had to go to work the next day? (Well, maybe I did, but only once.) And now that I don't work, I have the Sunday dread. That my friend, is karma. Very crap karma indeed.

The pussy arm has been covered for the last week. This morning I decided to uncover the monster. I nearly fainted, then I nearly cried, then I panicked and then I covered it up again. Apparently the British Red Cross offers help to self harmers with bad scars. I think I might need that. It looks like a chunk of my arm is missing. I think I might always have a large gauze bandage on my arm, because I am never looking at it again. I have officially made myself repulsive. It might have taken several attempts, but I think I've finally done it. Maybe now I can stop trying?

Flippancy, I have discovered, is a good coping strategy.


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