Fall

3 September, 2010


I’m secretly spiraling down the drain. I kind of like it. I feel dark and deep and mysterious. Really it’s just stupid. Ever since I’ve found an interest in relationships and the fact that people can actually be attracted to me, I’ve been more stressed. I feel as though I’ve been too risqué because of my flirtatiousness. I feel like a slut.

I recently started cutting. I had urges for weeks and soon it turned into days and days* until I couldn’t hold it anymore. I cut Wednesday, the night before school started. The night time came around and I just couldn’t resist anymore. I sent TB a text saying that I needed to promise. A second later I remembered that I had already decided that I would cut, however dumb, or stupid it sounds because… (*see paragraph at the end of this entry).

So I sent another text saying never mind. I don’t know why I thought that would fly. That didn’t end well. She texted me in the middle of the night to see if I was okay because she was worried. I felt badly. How did she honestly want me to respond to that? And what if I saw it when she sent it and not three irrelevant hours later? What would I have said? “No, I ended up cutting”. How is that soothing? It definitely would not calm her anxiety. So me being Imani, I said, “I’m fine”. Truthfully, I wasn’t okay. I didn’t want to worry her more. Only for a split second did I consider an option other than saying I’m fine. I think it’s courtesy. Maybe not common, but in telling someone else about something you’re upset about or your bad day, you also open up a little door of guiltiness. I didn’t want the guilt. Was it a bad idea for me to use this idea when replying to her text? I really don’t know. My job is to keep others around me happy and or comfortable. I don’t know why, that’s just how it is. It should change, I know.

People don’t want to know how you’re doing. They ask because it’s polite, it looks good for them. How many times a day are you asked, “how are you?” and how many of those times did people stop to converse with you, or even care to reply to your answer. Some people don’t even answer the question. Those are the smart people. Those are the people I need to be with because they’ve figured out that in most scenarios, no one really cares how you are. They only care about what you’re doing for them. They don’t get caught in the hooks like most, and feel offended because the other person was short with them. Not to say that any of this pertains to TB because it doesn’t. I just thought I’d take the opportunity to point out that fact about people.

How ironic is it that the next thing that’s bringing me down is MaryJane and I’m high right now? I’ve been high three fourths of today. Not good. I think I’m turning into a pothead. I question whether or not that will impinge on my success. I think that if I plan to work hard and I actually do it, it won’t be a big deal. I can feel my lungs going. I gotta stop treating my vocal cords so badly. We’ll see.

*I was really stressed out that day. It hadn’t been a good day and I had a lot to take care of before school. I remember feeling irritable and lonely. I had a sense of emptiness. I hadn’t cut in a month plus and the urges were coming and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t deal with the pressure of one more thing bothering me. I felt better. I smoked and then I took out my blade and stuff. I tried to keep it as close to my wrist as possible so my wristband could cover it. I kind of felt like I could hurt myself as badly as possible and I wouldn’t care about the consequences. I mean, when I was younger, cutting didn’t use to hurt. My skin was like butter and the cuts were painless. It felt good. I’ve grown out of that a bit. Sometimes it’s still like that, but most of the time I have a hard time being to risky with my cutting. I think it’s because I’ve learned to either love or respect myself a little. Or maybe just that the scar tissue hurts.

*Days and days - Teagan and Sara