I love my new knife. Mmm. Pretty. Sharp. Almost pulled it on that retarded a*****e who keeps touching me. But the bus driver yelled at him first so I didn't have to. xd
My shrink Dafna suggested I give it to her for safekeeping. Eh. Fat chance. I like it better than the razors (and NO, I haven't used it yet, except for 'test cutting' to test the sharpness) and it makes me feel safe. Erm. Safer. I don't really ever feel safe.
I day-nightmared about a guy raping me and I cut his d**k and testicles off with the knife while he was, erm, in the process of raping me. sweatdrop I want a GOOD dream, damnit. The knife is scary. I don't like having so much power.
On the bright side, I started my new job. Two and a half hours this morning folding clothes. Uuuugh. Less than minimum wage. But it's money. I need money. Yes. Money is good. I want to move out. I was hoping to move out at the end of October but my mother said no way, not until I have a steady income for three months. Grrr. *impatient* I want my own house with my own kitchen and my own scale. *coughtwitch* Nah. That's just a side-benefit.
I DAYDREAM about what my future kitchen will be like. Used to be I'd daydream about cutting (still do sometimes, but not very much) - now it's kitchen. How the freezer will be stocked full of popsicles and 50-cal ice-cream bars. And 10-calorie soup in the cuboards, and fresh fruit and veggies, and sugarless jello and salami and NOTHING ELSE. BWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
*cough*
I didn't excercise today. Except for walking when I should've taken the bus. I feel guilty.
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ramblings of a ******** angsty girl
This is the offspring of my main journal, which can be found at livejournal.com/~kiota. For the previous two or three years, including the history of my depression, self-injury, anorexia, suicides, and psych ward, see the other journal.
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