I feel like I don’t fit in my skin. I don’t fit in myself. I want to claw at it, rip it open, but I’m not convinced there’d be anything underneath.
d i s s o c i a t i o n
I need out. Out of my body, out of my life, out of myself? I don’t know. Just…OUT. I was okayish last night and I woke up after dreaming about alien puppies that came through a dimensional portal (yes really) and there’s no reason for me not to be okay but I’m not.
I want to cut. I want to binge and purge, and with the Social Security money, I could even afford to. I keep thinking about killing myself.
No. Not today. Today I am going to put on my shoes and walk to the pet store to buy Winston more food and bones. (He may actually be an extradimensional puppy because he chewed his last bone in half in two days.) Then I’m going to go grocery shopping, not binge food shopping. Then I’m going to eat actual food and then go to kung fu because hitting things is awesome.
And I’m trying to keep breathing.