01 May 2000
I hurt myself today,
to see if I still feel.
I focus on the pain
the only thing that's real.
The needle tares a hole
the old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away,
but I remember everything.
What have I become
my sweetest friend?
NIN: Hurt
I slam my fist into the wall as hard as I can and silently wish it hurt more. I know I shouldn't. Wufei would quote self control and how I'm weak. Fuck Wufei and his high standards. Fuck Heero and his perfect control.
_I_ hurt.
The only thought that breaks through this maddening roar of white noise is that everything will be alright if I can make my body hurt as much as my soul does.
I'll be dead before that happens.
When some people are hurting they gush about their feelings and plug in a pink blinking neon sign that says "emotionally distressed." I would not be one of those people. I go numb. Physically and emotionally numb and plaster a smile on my face. They say it takes fewer muscles to smile then it does to frown, and let me tell you something, when your world is in the middle of being flipped upside down and inside out, you conserve all the energy you can.
I think Quatre's caught on. He keeps looking at me as if I'm one of those gig saw puzzles with a black Oreo sitting on a black table cloth. He's trying to sort out the pieces and I think he might have the cookie put together. Most people can barely get the border put together before they get fet up. I'm not worth the trouble, and personally that's just fine by me.
The fewer people that know me, the fewer people that can hurt me.
It gets pretty damn lonely.
I think depression is the biggest bitch I have ever met. She wraps you up in a warm soaking blanket and pours a bottle of half dried Elmer's glue into you mouth (not that I would actually know what that feels like, but I have a pretty damn good imagination if I do say so myself). Nothing seems worth doing, and everything you say doesn't come out the way you want it to. My jokes to lighten things up get me more "oma o curso" than laughs these days, and I'm spouting advice that I don't even buy.
Ah, but what would Duo Maxwell be without his moronic babbling, ne?
He'd be the person inside my head that's tired and is stupid enough to want nothing more than to be held in a world of iron arms that can offer no comfort, only hurt.
Is this what it feels like to self destruct Deathscythe?
The pain?
The fear?
The need?
The want?
The want for it to be all over.
I slam my fist into the wall again and this time the drywall gives way, its broken edges tearing at my already bleeding knuckles.
The pain doesn't help.
I knew it wouldn't.
I'm not sure anything can.
Erin Johnson
Please send comments to: johnsoel@purdue.edu