The Tiny Wood Door
January 14, 2005

Sometimes the smallest things can trigger the hatred.  The Hatred that is always there.  There is a tiny wood door somewhere in my soul and when it opens nothing but fire comes out... fire and hate, hate for myself, my worthless self.  I worked on some altered art tonight.  The diversion worked for a while, but in the end, I lost it and ended up locking myself in R's bathroom and cutting myself to numb.  It's not much of a cut, the least penetrating I have done in a while, so I guess that is an improvement, but it was just enough to close the tiny wood door.   I was careful not to get out of hand cutting because of my upcoming surgery and figured that by the 27th it will look like just a scratch of some sort.

Now my hatred has burned out to a lingering sadness.  Just sad. so sad.  Tears rolling down my cheeks, just so sad.  R doesn't have much clue what is going on even though he is less then 10 feet away from me.  He is playing a video game. 

I'm going to take a hot shower, showers always make me feel a little better.  I like to pretend I can wash the ugliness inside away. 

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