waves crashing

I'm in a weird place right now. I've been feeling it all evening, this resounding blank wonder and the silence that consumes everything, including myself. It reminds me of a place I used to be, long ago, where nothing felt like anything and I used to bleed every night to make myself feel anything at all.

The psychological community doesn't understand cutting. Everyone I've ever talked to who has never been through it themselves seem to think it's some kind of cry for attention, a neutered suicide attempt intended to elicit help. I guess for some people, it is. For others, it's a punishment they think they deserve, to absolve themselves. For still others, it's simply anger at their bodies. For me, it was never any of those things. It was just a way to feel. There were all these emotions that I should have been experiencing, and maybe appeared to be experiencing on the outside, but never was. It was all a front, some cracked mask hardened over my skin that changed constantly. Inside, I was silent. Waves crashed over me, and I felt nothing.

I sensed those waves closing in again tonight. I don't want to cut again. I hoped I was beyond that by now.

I wanted to be around people, to experience the white noise made by voices and movement, snatches of conversation keeping their distance for fear of being consumed with the rest of me. I just wanted to watch, couldn't really do anything but, and instead busied myself on idle things. Maybe it was just the unspoken emotions of others running wild that were keeping mine silent.

We were talking about touch, and I distanced, and couldn't come back. Instead of freaking out, I go away. And I long to come back, I want it, but instead I stand, mute.

Depression isn't sadness. It's nothing. Nothing at all. I smile and carry on...

Where did all of this come from, all of a sudden? I don't want to do it again... I can't talk about it. Someone take me home...