You have entered a place where octupi flock in abundance and mad cows dance delightedly on the roof

I look like I've been run over by a lawnmower. Tee hee. Picking scabs makes the scars clearer and prettier, dunnit?

Gosh dammit, since when have I been doing this? the first month out of the first time at camp... 02 maybe? eh well, any way it goes it's been damn long enough. I want to swim again without people going "what the hell happened?" I miss swimming... it was fun. It's not like board shorts can cover my calves.

Besides... I don't have any good razors. mine keep dissapearing. I think my mom steals them. Either that or I just lose them the same way I lose pencils. Who says self-mutilation is devoted? When you can pull one out of your nearest BIC, what's the point of keeping them on you? Still, I liked those straight razors. something about them was just.. nice. Pretty. Functional. I never even cut with them, not myself anyway, other things, yes, but not my skin. Those blades were too good for my skin and blood.
since I picked up furious nail biting and maddening trichotillomania, the cutting urge has grown less. eh. proves that you replace one addiction with another. silly billy.

CAMP! is SOON! gosh, I'm looking forward to that. two months away from New Jersey, away from Mom, even though Uncle Bruce should come along, he'd have an awesome time, I can't stand mom anymore. Everything I do is either to placate myself or her. I can't do both. eh.

Night night. time for shower silly.

this has been a place for me to vent my depression for awhile, because the only fiend I had that knew where it was was kate, and she went byebye.

But depression isn't self-justifying anymore. It hasn't been for awhile, but habits are hard to break. I may just be ready to kick this one.

LOOKIT THE BOOBAHS!

Stong emotions scare me, so I can't allow myself to feel them, even when I want to because they'll bring up traumatic memories I have under lock, key, and razor deep within the bowels of selective memory. I can't love, because to love I have to feel, and I can't allow myself to do that any more than I can stop my heart from beating.


what the hell is wrong with me? I can't blame every problem I have on my dad. This is my fault. nothing but my own. Rather than remember, I bleed. Rather than love, I bleed. Rather than cry, I bleed. I should be dead from all the bleeding.


what would make me need to deal with emotion, to make myself cold and lifeless inside by bleeding, or in its former incarnation, by eating. It can't be healthy. certainly not for my skin, but for my heart as well. If it still exists at all.

WHOA

Back in New Jersey.

new jersey is very gray. And sometimes it smells.

Florida was more green, it still smelled a little bit, in a different way.

Harry's family problems followed him to florida, and they get worse as he's aging. Poor little chub. I wish he would stop beating up his siblings. It's going to make them just as messed up as he is. Especially Emily, she's going to be full of sadness. Max is brilliant, he can do twice to harry anything harry tries to do to him,, the only disadvantage he has right now is his size. That'll change. Sam is another story. He can't talk too well but you can see already that he tries to be like Harry, using brute force where his limited vocabulary and akward movements won't get him.

Ts's sad.  And uncle steve just turns up Led Zepplin to cover the screaming.

But those trees were amazing.