Middle Fucking Finger.

I'm in a shit-ton of pain.
Again. It's the same thing. Again and again and again.
And the only way to fix this pain is to these bruised fucking knots CUT OPEN, drained, and stuffed full of iodine padding.
WHY WHY WHY damnit WHY? Again?
I'm going to wait them out a month. If the fevers get worse, I'll go to the hospital. But I'm going to wait them out a month and hope that they fucking go away. If not, I'll either cut them out myself...or visit a hospital.

Anyways. So. Middle-fucking-finger. To everything. Again.
I'm just feeling really fucking shitty.
Again.
Physically, mentally, emotionally.
I've started playing the game again. That one that leaves bruises. Yeah. You know if you know. The one healed up nicely, the others I just keep hiding. Everytime I itch I know what time it is.

My nails are growing out. They look nice.
Nice enought to claw some eyes out.
(middle-fucking-finger)

I have good days and I have bad days. I'm working on having more good days, but the bad ones seem to overcome everything. I don't have answers to any of my questions, yet. I've stopped looking.
I don't feel any kind of "real" emotions anymore.
I'm at the point where I'll dance the dance because everyone else is, but it doesn't make me happy in any way, shape or form. I stop every once in a while, and sometimes I change partners.
But it's the same dance. It's the same thing. Every. Single. Day.
I feel trapped. I know everyone feels trapped, but it consumes me. Every day, it consumes my whole being.
I find temporary solutions, but in the end, I'm right back where I began.
I hate it so fucking much. I know that it would just be so much simpler to end this process. For me, simplicity comes in my car engine running while I'm sitting in the garage.
Supposedly, it's quick.
I need to stop being so morbid and I need to stop talking about suicide.
I need to stop considering it as an option.

I know that there are people in worse off situations that I.
If they're doing it, they have the emotional capactiy to do so.
I don't. Situational versus Emotional. Emotional wins, in my book.
Smiling just hurts my face, these days.

I itch when I stand still.
I don't have the patience to be stagnant and I don't have the motivation to do anything else.
My life is in shambles, it feels like, and I cannot seem to pick up enough pieces before they all begin falling around me again.
I'm trying really, really hard to hold everything together.

Yesterday, while I was reading, my heart quickened it's pace and it became very difficult to breathe. After a good minute or so, it slowed back down to normal and my breathing went back to normal. Thsi wasn't the first time that happened, but this time it lasted a lot longer than it usually does. Is that a murmur, or some sort of arythmia? I don't know. But if it's gonna kill me, I hope it's a quick death.

I wish I could be a Christian and look forward to something.