New cuts on my wrist are done from last night. They shouldn't matter, but they do. The itching is nearly unbareable, the pain from itching worse. Last night, nothing actually happened for this to happen. Nothing should've set it off. Yet it happened. Five dainty cuts appeared. Maybe it's not right, but it makes sense. Some how. To my loving mind it makes cruel sense. Nothing else can I control, it seems.
I feel as though if I quit eating, like I've been on the edge of doing, no one but this lovely girl would notice. I feel ugly, fat, uncureable. I feel worse than if I were cancer. Why? No clue!
I must be going to bed. Test tomorrow. Ugh. Summer break soon, though. My best friend. Haha.
Goodnight.
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