that fine line

There is something about the site of blood running down your skin from a cut that is in one way soothing and in an nother so damn frightening you just want to curl up and wish that the thoughts would go away. I didn’t purposely cutmyself at first. It was an accident. The feeling of the razor nicking your skin by accident. But rather then washing the blood away I just stood there in the shower and let it run down the drain. I didn’t purposlely do it again the next time either. Yet I didn’t take my time and carefuly go over the skin so it wouldn’t cut either. It’s that in between. That no where’s land between wanting to stop the blod and wanting to pusposly do it again. I resisted doing it on purpose but I still feel bad that I let it happen in the first place. It’s much easier to cut the skin “accidently” if you don’t use shaving cream. And if you go over the curves without taking care. It’s not cutting on purpose is it? Not if you don’t knowing put the blade to the skin and press till you see the blood…

I don’t know why people do the things they do. Is it because they want the pain? They crave the pain. They like giving the pain. And recieving the pain. I think some people are more likely to attrack people that will hurt them then others. I think I’m one of them. I think sometimes I “look” for the ones that will end up hurting me. I think it’s all I know how to do. I don’t know what qualities make someone good or someone bad. I don’t know if there is such qualities. I don’t even know what the hell I’m saying really. Just that sometimes I have to wonder if I do it to myself on purpose. I knew Tara would hurt me. I knew Percey would hurt me. I’ve known others would hurt me. But I want so badly to believe I’m worng that I ignore the signs again and again. I look past the snide remarks and comments meant to hurt and try and find the good hidden deep down. I know it’s there. I’m sure it’s there. But it’s never there. There is just enough good there to make it look like they might actually care. But they never do. And the ones who truely do scare me even more in some ways. Why? I really don’t know. But I don’t think I let them get close enough. I mix up what I see and make the good, bad. And the bad, good. It’s not meant to be simple right?

I kept thinking all along that things were too good to be true. I knew that I was being used. I knew that something “wasn’t quite right”. I knew. And I ignored. I choose to look past. I tried to do what people are constantly telling me I have to do. To look for the good. To concentrate on the good. To not let the bad “get to me”. To not let it cloud my judgement. I don’t trust my judgement anymore. I’m not sure I ever really did. I constantly stand on that thin line between here and there. Between good and bad. Between love and hate. And I can’t balance it. I gravitate towards the there, the bad, the hate. It’s what I know. It hurts me but doesn’t scare me. It’s familiar.

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