gash

I made a CD for someone I consider a friend. I titled it, decorated it, and then carefully used a razor blade to make deep gashes in the track side. I don't know why I did this, but it finally feels finished. I feel a little bit like I'm walking dead. I want to say that I'm sad. I want to say that I'm angry. In reality, I am neither of these things. Right now I just am. I want to write about things that I keep secret even from myself. I have been obsessively slicing away at my thoughts until there isn't anything left to make sense. Do I do this to myself? I can't help thinking that if I could just give myself a break, things would be easier. Even with my resolve, it's too easy to pick myself apart when I'm left alone. My mind is never, ever quiet.