journal entry #1

i'm trapped in a world that is measured with numbers and it feels like i'm a discalculic. it's like i'm running in circles, being chased by the minute hand but no matter how hard i try, the seconds are ticking away and colliding with me every time.


- journal entry #2

i sat on the beach collecting handfuls of sand. the occasional stone rests in my palm as the small grains fall between my fingers. i discard them into the sea and count each wave. for every ten waves, i discover a shell instead of a stone. i don't throw those, though. i count the amount of ridges on each shell. i count the amount of waves before i feel bored. i count the amount of time it takes for the sand to sieve through my fingers.


- journal entry #3

i went out today. i had to leave at a certain time to get the right numbered bus and make sure i had the correct change to get to my destination. i ate three meals, and three snacks. i swallowed after every twenty chews. i spent half an hour measuring every part of my body and i stepped on the scales like i was on a ******* treadmill. these numbers are aggravating me. my breathing increased by fifty percent and i had two panic attacks in the space of six minutes.


- journal entry #4

i ran a bath and shaved my legs but only got one half done before the urges became too strong so i took apart the razor and used one of the three blades to carve one hundred lines in my skin. i shoved seventy four painkillers down my throat with three shots of *****.


- journal entry #5478652546452351516516513216*

i got tired of counting. i got tired of time and numbers and not being able to understand anything any more. i laid on the grass and stared at the sky and just admired the view instead of counting each and every ******* star in the sky. the stars remind me of your eyes. i still know how many days it's been since i last saw those eyes. seventy four. the same amount of painkillers because your eyes **** the pain i have in my soul. the last thing i'll ever count is this breath, which i'm dedicating to you.


/evjs

life is not perfect
because you believe
you are not perfect

no matter how many times you look into the mirror
and see a beautiful girl staring back at you
those voices
will

creep back and say hello
you're fat
you're ugly
silly pathetic girl
cut deeper

who do you think you are


*/evjs

self harm is a misguided concept
where people think that if you don't drag a blade across your skin
that you are not in pain
but they believe that if you choose to do so
that you are seeking for attention
whether you are the holder of the blade or the skin beneath it
you are the wrong no matter what the right
but the symptom from depression is not just cutting and leaving scars
it's about destroying your body whether that's your physical being
or the helpless voice inside your mind

self harm is not just cutting
it's not just leaving a tally of pain across each wrist
or carving insults into your thighs in hopes that no one would see them
self harm is not just opening your skin to release the pain
self harm can be opening your legs to guy who said he loved you
self harm can be extinguishing the flame from your cigarette on you skin
self harm can be intoxicating your mind with fluid or substance
self harm can be pulling strands of your hair from your scalp
self harm can be chewing your nails until you bleed from your fingertips
self harm can be using those fingertips as erasers
to delete the calories you count daily
self harm can be starving your precious body
to count each rib because that's what they say is beauty

but that isn't what defines beauty
whether you have scars on your skin or scars in your mind
whether those scars are stretch marks or harsh words
whether they have healed or are still in that process
you are beautiful

you are beautiful


*/evjs