Close but no Cigar

Photo by Irina Iriser on Pexels.com

Sit at the lake and write. Writing is the only thing that makes sense anymore. I can’t tell anyone how I feel because they don’t either care or really

listen and if they are listening they try to make you feel better and it is good intentions on their end but on my end it just fucking hurts. I want to

be heard. I want to be understood and validated. You can not tell me to “Stop worrying about it” if i am about to have a panic attack over it.

Dont you think I have tried to stop? That is why i am so irritated because I tell myself to stop yet I cant.

I got irritated today. Almost kicked a hole in the wall but decided that wasnt a good idea. Went to go scream in the living room and noticed the 15 year old

so that wasnt a good idea either. Went in the bathroom, locked the doors and sat in the shower trying to deconstruct a rusty razor I found sitting on an old

pile of spilt soap. I was intruded in on 2 minutes later by the fiance jerry riggin the door unlocked. He really took the razor away like I was a little

kid. I am not a little kid. Give it back I can make my own choices. No, Im sitting in the shower trying to slice pieces of flesh off my body, that isnt

very grown up. I should be treated like a child.

Coping…

Im still coping right now. Came straight for the laptop because it is the only thing that sees my words as i permenently press them with black ink onto

this page for you. Anything to keep myself from hurting myself would be superb. I am so grateful for words today.

—-

That was last night. I gave in for a brief moment and barely scratched the surface. Little bubbles of red forming above, but not appearing to grow larger and leak down my forearm. Ok, I tasted the bottle but I did not drink from it.

Today is day 2 on the red river. Kayaking down my own river flow with no life jacket but a giant cotton tipped pillow to absorb as much as possible. So disgusting. I say this because i want to welcome you to PMDD. My name is Nicholle but during this time of the month you can NOT call me by that. In fact, don’t talk to me at all. Save yourself. Run. Im a raging bitch to a horny humper in a matter of 5 minutes going from crying my eyes out and throwing shoes at you to stripping you naked and climbing on top in the public park :0

For the next 3 days, a total of 5 days I must sit in this house and I must hibernate otherwise I will make feeling suicidal and crazy amplified to acting suicidal and acting crazy. BIG difference people. When I already feel like shit, I want to feel better so I cut, drink, fuck, smoke, eat, etc to feel better but it only makes me feel like shit and feel guilty for hurting my body so might as well just sit alone in my home away from the possible mistakes I have continuously made and be substance and temptation free feeling like shit.

Like you really care about my menstrual cycle right now. Unless reading this somehow turned you on and now you are going to Direct Message me with some unoriginal pick up line thinking you have the chance to get me in bed. Save your words, you wont and you can’t.

Might write something cool later might just chill with my reeses and dr pepper.

Love and Rage

Nicholle

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