I think the only reason I am still alive at this point is because of my phases of absolute indifference toward myself. Then of course I wake up on days like today and the self-loathing is motherfucking palpable. I feel like this goddamned room is clouded with it, and all I want to do is throw things and hurt myself. I want to slam my fucking skull into a wall until its shattered into pieces under my scalp. I want to fucking pull off my fingernails with a pair of pliers. I want to bleed until I pass out.
But it all stays so pleasantly contained, at least to the point that no one will notice much. How’s that for self-control?