(no subject)
I slept for nearly twelve hours last night. I don't get to do that often anymore, unsurprisingly. I had a weird assortment of dreams... One with a karaoke bar that also had swimming pools everywhere. It was like a karaoke club and there was one guy there with white hair and two pupils in each eye who was hitting on me.
Another dream involved planning for the next DnD session I was going to run, and involved an old character from the last game I ran... Oscar... And I was pretty much writing the script for how the conversation with him would go down.
Another dream had to do with football... It was weird, The Gators were playing a game, so all the girls who wanted to play football formed a team and played at the same time the Gators did, so all the people who couldn't get tickets could still watch some football. I think my team won. And I think I was an important position.
After that me and all the Rollins theater people snuck over to this fancy place that had a huge playground we wanted to hang out in, but they had all these signs that adults couldn't be there, signs like "Don't have sex on the pirate ship" and "no smoking weed under the tires". We somehow got in anyway, but there was apparently some drama between people who left and it was a big mess.
I also visited Ray and Rosie in my dream. This time it was late at night, and I kind of snuck in and started eating their cereal.. This is not odd behavior, for those that don't know. Chris wakes up and comes to talk with me, then Ray and Rosie both wake up and talk about how much they miss me and all that. They talk about everyone they've been visiting. In my mind I'm already trying to take note of this dream and I'm still asleep. They have apple jacks.
The dream I'm most proud of though involved me trying to be a good person. I was still going to Rollins, but I lived a wee bit further away than I do now; far enough that I needed my bike to get to class. Kristy was visiting and I left her in the library because all she wanted was a working computer. Connie and I decided to bike home to my place, and while we did, this older black man (i guess my subconscious is racist) tried to steal my bike. Instead of giving it to him, I introduced myself, asked his name, we talked about why he felt he needed to steal, the other ways he got his money, what the other options were, how much better he would feel actually earning money, etc etc. It was cool. We became friends and he and his son got jobs. Very warm and fuzzy feeling.
Now, onto the reason I was inspired to write. Upon waking, I migrated to my computer and through one series of clicks or another, I stumbled upon a forum for cutters and self-inflicters to post pictures of their injuries and mutilations.
For those that don't know, I used to be one of these people. I stopped about five years ago, so it's been awhile, but seeing it all brought everything back. From there I clicked around to various articles about how cutting is viewed, what you can do to get help, how cutting should not always be linked to the Emo subculture, why attention seeking cutting isn't any different from self-hate cutting and other forms of cutting, etc etc onwards and onwards.
This is probably a good thing, but looking at pictures, reading articles, it doesn't feel like that is part of me anymore. Yes, every once in a while an oddly random urge or idea will strike when I'm REALLY upset, but nothing further than that. I shake the thought away before it's even fully formed. The one time its even seemed like an option is when everything with AJ and I breaking up was going down. Yeah, rough times.
Just because I don't do it doesn't mean I don't have the scars. It's funny though, how well most of them had healed. Five years ago, my arms were relatively littered with scars, reminders I thought I'd have forever, but now it's as if they were never there at all. The rest of my body isnt as lucky, however. Without fail, every time I go swimming, someone asks about my legs. It's no longer embarrassing, even. It's not me, it's a fossil from an age past. I kind of like my scars, actually. It shows I could survive all that shit and move on. I grew up from that shit. Just keep on living. If tomorrow's not better, the next day will be.
So you were born, and that was a good day
Someday you'll die, and that's a shame
But somewhere in the between was a life of which we all dream
And nothing and no one will ever take that away
Another dream involved planning for the next DnD session I was going to run, and involved an old character from the last game I ran... Oscar... And I was pretty much writing the script for how the conversation with him would go down.
Another dream had to do with football... It was weird, The Gators were playing a game, so all the girls who wanted to play football formed a team and played at the same time the Gators did, so all the people who couldn't get tickets could still watch some football. I think my team won. And I think I was an important position.
After that me and all the Rollins theater people snuck over to this fancy place that had a huge playground we wanted to hang out in, but they had all these signs that adults couldn't be there, signs like "Don't have sex on the pirate ship" and "no smoking weed under the tires". We somehow got in anyway, but there was apparently some drama between people who left and it was a big mess.
I also visited Ray and Rosie in my dream. This time it was late at night, and I kind of snuck in and started eating their cereal.. This is not odd behavior, for those that don't know. Chris wakes up and comes to talk with me, then Ray and Rosie both wake up and talk about how much they miss me and all that. They talk about everyone they've been visiting. In my mind I'm already trying to take note of this dream and I'm still asleep. They have apple jacks.
The dream I'm most proud of though involved me trying to be a good person. I was still going to Rollins, but I lived a wee bit further away than I do now; far enough that I needed my bike to get to class. Kristy was visiting and I left her in the library because all she wanted was a working computer. Connie and I decided to bike home to my place, and while we did, this older black man (i guess my subconscious is racist) tried to steal my bike. Instead of giving it to him, I introduced myself, asked his name, we talked about why he felt he needed to steal, the other ways he got his money, what the other options were, how much better he would feel actually earning money, etc etc. It was cool. We became friends and he and his son got jobs. Very warm and fuzzy feeling.
Now, onto the reason I was inspired to write. Upon waking, I migrated to my computer and through one series of clicks or another, I stumbled upon a forum for cutters and self-inflicters to post pictures of their injuries and mutilations.
For those that don't know, I used to be one of these people. I stopped about five years ago, so it's been awhile, but seeing it all brought everything back. From there I clicked around to various articles about how cutting is viewed, what you can do to get help, how cutting should not always be linked to the Emo subculture, why attention seeking cutting isn't any different from self-hate cutting and other forms of cutting, etc etc onwards and onwards.
This is probably a good thing, but looking at pictures, reading articles, it doesn't feel like that is part of me anymore. Yes, every once in a while an oddly random urge or idea will strike when I'm REALLY upset, but nothing further than that. I shake the thought away before it's even fully formed. The one time its even seemed like an option is when everything with AJ and I breaking up was going down. Yeah, rough times.
Just because I don't do it doesn't mean I don't have the scars. It's funny though, how well most of them had healed. Five years ago, my arms were relatively littered with scars, reminders I thought I'd have forever, but now it's as if they were never there at all. The rest of my body isnt as lucky, however. Without fail, every time I go swimming, someone asks about my legs. It's no longer embarrassing, even. It's not me, it's a fossil from an age past. I kind of like my scars, actually. It shows I could survive all that shit and move on. I grew up from that shit. Just keep on living. If tomorrow's not better, the next day will be.
So you were born, and that was a good day
Someday you'll die, and that's a shame
But somewhere in the between was a life of which we all dream
And nothing and no one will ever take that away