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17 February 2003 @ 11:51 pm
ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall  
Yume: Blood on my fingers, blood on my palms. Red liquid spilled down the front of my shirt. I'm trying to find the source of the blood as he sits in front of me, licking his lips and stained teeth.

When I woke up this morning, there was another scratch on my hand and it was bleeding. I'm starting to wonder if I bite my hands when I'm asleep or something. The scratches never look like teeth marks, though.
Today was rather blah. It's hard finding that balance between friends and the boy, y'know? I'm not doing too well in either department, I think. Sailor wouldn't let me draw on his face, either. Stubborn jerk – how visual can I make him without decorating his face at least a little? But he wore orange today, and yelled at Lindsay where I could watch and laugh, so it was good overall. It was fun, and fun is all that matters. Oh, but I burned so much gas today. I'll never make it to the end of the week without busting out my credit card (nearly maxed out) or receiving a parental handout.

Alcohol, my permanent accessory...Alcohol, a party-time necessity...Alcohol, alternative to feeling like yourself...Oh Alcohol, I still drink to your health. I love you more than I did the week before I discovered alcohol.

The other day I was playing with the alcohol bottles in my kitchen cabinet. We only have a few – beer, wine, rum, brandy, whiskey, and amaretto. I was unscrewing/uncorking the caps and peering at the contents while talking to the boyfriend on the phone. He didn't like that I was having so much fun with the coconut rum – and made me promise not to drink any. Honestly! I wasn't planning to, but the minute he said "Don't do it for me?" I wanted to chug the whole bottle down. Silly reverse psychology!
But it got me to thinking...alcohol is really, really poisonous. Yet when I was investing copious amounts of time into suicide plans, it never once occurred to me that I should just drink myself to death. I mean, I was trying to avoid pain, and what could be better? Chug down a couple of bottles, 'til I can't drink anymore, and it'd be a pretty effective, relatively painless way to end it all. The poison would kick in pretty fast, I think, if I OD'd enough. It'd be much better than the other stuff I tried.
I mean, think about it. First I tried cutting. But slicing myself hurts! I didn't get very far before I realized I'd have to find a painless way to do it, because slashing and bleeding is too much pain! Even though it's very hypnotic to watch blood drip...it just isn't worth the discomfort.
Then I came up with the bright idea that if I just starved myself, I'd die without being messy or inconveniencing anyone else. But wow – it took a lot of dedication. I mean, you can't just take a knife and spill blood and watch yourself ebb away...you have to stick to the unnatural state of not eating for weeks. I couldn't do it – my will wasn't strong enough to stick to that goal. In fact, I didn't even lose more than five or six pounds. I just lacked the discipline to stop eating completely. So much for that!
Bravely, I decided the answer lay in overdosing. I had no money for access to drugs, so I made do with pills I found in my mom's medicine cabinet. I swallowed ten of the suckers and went to my room to wait for them to kill me. It didn't work! There was just agony! My insides felt like they were being melted and my brain wouldn't stop ripping itself to shreds. I couldn't see or concentrate – everything was shattering. After eternity and a day my body completely rejected whatever I'd swallowed and I puked it all over the bathtub. Yuck. Cleaning that up was a bitch. And I think I managed to do some serious damage, since every once in a while I get these sharp pains in my abdomen or up my spine. But I don't want to see a doctor about it, because then I have to admit what I did and I'd rather my parents not know. It was years ago now, anyway.
Did I have a point with this? Oh, yeah. So the other day when I was playing with the alcohol bottles in my kitchen cabinet and talking to my boyfriend on the phone, I had a minor epiphany that, while probably inaccurate, stuck with me the rest of the day.

...And if you could you'd climb atop the Eiffel Tower, now wouldn't you? You'd stare at the sun or lay yourself down six feet under, now wouldn't you? And if you could you'd tie me up and make me yours, now wouldn't you? Wouldn't you?
Are you strong enough to love me? Are you lost in love or crazy? Are you strong enough – strong enough to love me?
...And if you could you'd walk through fire on tightrope wire, now wouldn't you? You'd fly up across the sky just to prove your point, now wouldn't you? Wouldn't you?
Are you strong enough to love me? Are you lost in love or crazy? Are you strong enough – strong enough to love me?
You'd take me in hand, higher and higher, overland – but I'd slip through the cracks, and higher and higher take you back.
...And if you could you'd tie me up and make me yours, now wouldn't you?
You'd tie me up...
...But are you strong enough to love me? Are you lost in love or crazy? Are you strong enough – strong enough to love me?

Tal Bachman still rocks.
 
 
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Current Music: "strong enough" (I think?) by tal bachman