This has been a terribly stressful week. On the weekend I broke down and went to cut myself but then stopped because I knew I'd still feel like shit no matter what. Today I feel like cutting myself again, but I'm not. There aren't any clean knives and I'm too lazy to wash one. I'm not trying to kill myself, so there's no need to risk infection. (chuckle)
Sometimes I feel like my body is a kettle filled with boiling water. Only when I cut myself can the steam rise out of me and all the stress and pain dissipates. I never used to feel that way about cutting. I used to be afraid of it. I was afraid of seeing blood. Now I'm curious.
I've been dreaming about my wedding day. I'm wearing a beautiful white dress. The weather is perfect. I look gorgeous and everyone is outside waiting for me. But I don't come out because I've hanged myself in my wedding dress, holding my bouquet of flowers. I'm watching myself from inside the room where I'm dangling from the ceiling. My mother in law finds the dead me, but doesn't notice the ghost me watching the chaos.
In another version of the dream, I've found a razor and have cut up my arm and wrist and I'm bleeding all over everything. My wedding dress is stained red and one of my bridesmaids finds me and starts freaking out. I faint and all I see is black and I can hear the family crying and gasping as they try to save my life. The sounds start to fade away, like I'm being pulled up and back. Everything is still black, but now I'm inside myself and that's all I have left. It's really weird.
It makes me wonder if I'm dying in my dream, or just going into a coma, maybe. I wonder if I'll come back to life.