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This diary entry is written by ‹Drunkie›. ( View all entries )
Previous entry: pullin' out my hair in category (general)

It is so damn easyCategory: (general)
Friday, 8 November 2013
05:44:59 AM (GMT)
It is so damn easy to romanticize the things that cut you to your knees and break
you down. The retching, empty feeling of a stomach that has just lost it's contents.
The food that seconds before had made it swell and expand to compensate the large
quantities of pure shit that had been shoved into the body. The starving, gnawing
feeling of a stomach that hadn't been fed in 50... no, 51 now, hours. The slice of a
sharp blade through the skin. The drip, drip, drip, of bright red blood. It's so damn
easy to miss these things. The comfort of the blade and the cool porcelain bowl. The
same, aching, dead feeling every day that you could count on to be for you no matter
what. Being happy, medicated, stable, is so much scarier. For once, you feel as if
the world isn't so scary. For once, the plans you make aren't just dreams they are
real, tangible things, that live just outside the realm of your finger tips. Being
happy is harder, in a sense. Every day you wake up, you get out of bed, and you do
things without thinking. There is so much more expected of you, and life still throws
the same shit it threw at you before, but you are expected to deal. You are not
allowed to go to the razor blade or the toilette to cope. When you're happy you've
essentially been shoved back into real life. It's a rebirth. You are expelled from
the warm cocoon that is the familiarity of depression into a cold world with so many
overwhelmingly amazing possibilities. Every day is brand new. It is no longer the
same routine of sleep, starve, binge, purge, cut, sleep. It varies from day to day in
a fascinating way that you never thought you could handle.


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