Throwback Thursday: Something I found in a journal from a decade ago

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I was madly out of my mind with love… And after all the lazy days and being friends, after I walked around my final weeks as a senior year as an android. I was in SO much pain. I was numb. I cried myself to sleep. Food had no taste. I did not feel physical pain any more. I hammered my hands to a bloody pulp in crew one day before I noticed they were bleeding at all. It was an accident, I just remember seeing my hands and thinking what have I done? Then I felt surges of pain, my hands begging choking why? What is going to happen to me? Will I always be half a soul? I was DEAD inside. And for years I went over every detail like that would help. Like it would go back and erase everything if I just think really hard, close my eyes. I would strip off all my clothes. I would feel the cold swallow my naked body. Be naked. Fold those clothes nicely in a pile, take a hot bath, and when I got out every thing in the world would fix itself. I would dry off with a velvety soft purple towel, lotion my body, brush my now silky hair, put on my favorite comfy clothes and pretend nothing’s happened. It is toxic. It is the absolute worst kind of poison for your body. It will make you either strong or break you! It destroyed me. It corroded my brain. A wind storm blew the files of my brain and scattered them around. Razor blades tore up any belief or hope I had for love. Like being stoned to death. Or drinking bleach. Or falling off a cliff. I do not trust anyone. Anyone! I was a ghost in a beautiful world but I did not see any beauty. I saw ugly. I regret allowing myself falling into this pit of hurt and I could not climb out. Just kept digging and digging until I could not hear or see anything. Then I dug a little more. My private place. Any relationship I have, I do not know what to think when a guy says something. What does it mean? I see visions of Keith in my head. Visions. Spinning, dizzy visions. Penetrating my mind, burning a hole in reason. Playing like skipping CDs. Like broken blades of a blender spinning. It is as if I am watching a horror movie and I cannot close my eyes. I cannot beg for help. The guitar and the painting with me. The comfort of clanking tools. Now? If I ever see him again I feel wobbly the whole day. One time so far and let me just say no thank you. And cannot sleep, because I feel like I did something to deserve this. I didn’t, but I know that kind of pain where you want to be locked in a tower. An unforgiving tower. And burn it to the ground while still inside. Dark. Lonely. Frigid.  Like stabbing pains.  In my mind, it’s still a blur. Spinning. Screaming. Blurry. Foggy. Prick, Prick, Prick. Little Stabs. Prick, Prick, Prick, Prick.