Evenings.

The after hours bring out the worst in me. "A heart that hurts is a heart that works." I get the worst feeling in my stomach and my legs go slightly numb so I start to fidget. I feel uncontent most evenings. Sometimes it's not that bad, sometimes I take my mind off of it all and get right into a game of Chuzzle, ignorance is bliss.

Some nights I lash out. I sign on here, I sign on for a night of abuse. I guilt trip my friends into feeling as bad as I do, I scream and I shout until I break down. I blame them for not knowing what to do. Isn't it funny that I can look at my hands and easily just wipe the blood off, as if it's just normal now. It is just normal, now. It would have never have been before. My release. The nights are long.

The next day, I'll wake up as if yesterday had never happened. I won't need to act like nothing happened because I'll truely believe that I was just over reacting. My friends will know, they'll remember what I said and how I was acting but they won't understand why. The awkwardness will push them to forget. But the cuts, the cuts and the scratches will remind me that last night was one of the bad ones. The bumps and the bruises that will stay for the week, they will be a constant reminder for that week, that time I flipped my lid. The sting when I slouch into the bath or the throbbing pain all over.

I'll feel so much better in the morning. The sun's always out in the morning. I'll sleep in to make up for lost time. Sleeping is so difficult. I toss and I turn and it's ridiculous!

On a more positive note, I'm going to coffee with my old product design teacher. Weird.