I didn't think it would be that difficult to put an end to my bad habits. I should've known better. It's fucking hard. The more I remind myself not to relapse, the more the thoughts fester in my head, and the more this itch grows. It doesn't feel right to suddenly abandon my habits. I think I'll be able to leave smoking behind without much effort, but I do everything else almost daily. Some things are daily.
It's like walking to a new school for the first time, or navigating the halls of that school. It's weird, new, and uncomfortable. But you keep doing it. Then, it's just muscle memory. You're comfortable with it, you know it well, and it's all you know. Then you walk a different path. Are you really going the right way? Is this really the best path? What if you're late? So you go back to the shell you know best. The shell that's worked every time. The shell that's everything you know. But the shell that's preventing you from walking the best, most effective path, potentially.
I feel bad that Katsuki has to put up with something like me. Not really, and it's his choice to go down this path, but I know that's the way I should feel. It must be stressful for him. He must constantly be worrying about me and my health and safety. I'm a terrible person, huh? Well, most people wouldn't feel these things over me. I'm just "that person," "that student," or someone that's sick, to most people. I guess I deserve it for choosing to leave my bonds with everyone behind; I've faded back into just another person to most people. Just another faceless face on the train full of faceless faces.
That's kind of how I feel, actually. Like a train full of faceless faces. The train doesn't feel anything. I go from one place to the next, carrying individual experiences with me that ultimately mean nothing to me, despite how unique and complex they truly are beneath the surface. Forget about some, pick up more. Carry some longer, drop some more later. It's all just a process. And in the end, the train will loop back to the start and begin that same process again, but perhaps in a different order. Back and forth again and again. The scenery never truly changes, but the seasons do.
Earlier today, I went to the store to get some bandages and a sharp pair of scissors. I ran into Iida, and I could tell he didn't particularly want to talk to me, but he did to be polite. If people were genuine, how different would the world be? He asked me why I needed so many bandages. I guess I did buy a lot, but I'll need them. I told him they were for home and for my dorm. He didn't question further, and he didn't ask about the scissors. I knew it was unrealistic, but I had the thought at the back of my mind that somehow, he knew I was cutting. I prepared so many lies in advance just because that thought surfaced.
At the store, people were talking about me. They wondered why I needed scissors, and some thought I might've been planning on stabbing someone. Why? Do some people fear me that much because of some rumors? Foolish, if you ask me. Just because I don't care who lives or dies or what happens to anyone doesn't mean I want to go out of my way to murder someone. Just because I didn't feel sad when my own sister died doesn't mean I wanted her to die. That's not it at all. This is just absurd. Aside from the obvious, what led to these preconceived notions and stereotypes?
When I got back to my dorm, I got high. I told myself not to, but "just one wouldn't hurt, right?" It's difficult to make progress when you're not trying to get better. My goal is to mask everything enough and cut down some to the point where Katsuki won't try to force me through therapy. Maybe these are the thoughts that make me a great candidate for therapy, but I just don't care. I'm okay with being like this. Some say I'm suffering, but that's not how I feel anymore. I'm not depressed. I got through my depression and sorrows, and here I am.
What even is depression? Because I don't feel depressed anymore. I feel numb to everything. I don't feel anything. I wanted this to get out of my depression, and I'm used to the numbness, but I still crave a drop of emotion, a drop of blood, a drop of alcohol… Something to break this perpetual numbness. It sounds contradictory. I don't know how to describe it. Words are difficult. How do you put feelings into words? How do you put the lack of feeling into words? How do those words you write down or say differ in interpretation from you to everyone else? How can you find the right thing to say? The thing everyone will understand and correctly interpret? Is that even possible?
Anyway. I tried out the scissors right before I wrote in here, and they're fucking sharp. Cutting doesn't even feel good. It just… It's like the sharp, burning sensations trick my mind into thinking it's a good feeling, but it's not. I want the false sensation of emotion. Feeling the same every day gets old, so I want to feel something different. I want to feel like I have a reason to panic, to struggle, to feel something…because my life could end then and there. I want that rush of overpowering, bitter, dry adrenaline when my life is flashing before my eyes.
And that's why I just can't stop.