Tuesday, September 27, 2005

I never meant for him to see the scars. Heh. And damn that he saw them. I don't know if he worries, but I don't want him to. I've also got a feeling he's tired of me doing all these: scarring myself; playing with Death...stuff...

And that's why I try not to let him know. I don't want him to be affected by the things I do. It isn't worth it, not ON me, not FOR me. It surprised me greatly that he feels so comfortable with and around me, that he can actually fall asleep at the beach, us lying side-by-side. I feel comfortable with him, but it seems not to the extent that he is with me. That very trust he shows scares me a lot, because it places a lot of pressure on me to try not to hurt him.

Self-destruction doesn't really thrill me more than it makes me feel alive. Isn't that an irony? I need to destroy and scar myself to make myself feel like I'm living.