WHY DON'T ANY OF MY ENTRIES SAVE ON THIS MOTHER FUCKER?!?! OKAY! SINCE I'M REALLY PISSED NOW I'M GOING TO ABRUPTLY EXPLAIN WHAT I HAVE EXPLAINED FOR THE PAST TWO ATTEMPTED ENTRIES. -.- jesus christ on a crucifix.. OKAY! SO! I found a razor about in november. Bought one rather. And used it to fulfill my "odd" fetish of blood. I'd rather not taste my own, but i have no choice in the matter. ANYWAY. The day before yesterday, my mom got really pissed at me. Grades this, grades that, you're a bitch, stop acting like a stoned punk, blah blah blah...*door slams* you fucking piece of shit. Well. All this fighting and commotion made me actually FEEL quite like a fucking piece of shit. And there wasn't a god damned thing i could do about it because i had to get my sorry ass up and do what? HOMEWORK! HOMEWORK OF ALL THINGS DURING THIS MENTAL CRISIS. So what do i do? Go to my coffin box with a skull on it ( go fucking figure) and find my razor right where it should be. I sit and plunge the edge down the side of my hand, using the bleeding mess to draw "pretty" pictures with. Now as horribly "emo" this sounds to one who doesn't know me that well, that wasn't me. That was some other inner form of jenna who decided to possess her. Now there are four marks on my arm: three done for the taste of blood. One done the day before yesterday which is currently covered in a band-aid for no further questions from strangers and friends. Those two different types of cuts on my hand are the two different types of cutters i've known. Ones who are like me and like the taste of blood. Others who feel like they have no control over a situation and are clueless as to how to release their pain. OR they can't feel anything and the only way to know they're feeling something is to use their trusty razor. When things are used as a crutch is when they start becoming a habit. Drugs, for example. When you smoke pot, you smoke it for the fun feeling of being stoned. But when you inhale that joint for the purpose of forgetting your boyfriend, that's when it becomes a problem. Same thing goes for alcohol. SO through this whole observation on myself and other people who have gone through the same form of helplessness, i now understand what it's like and can no longer laugh and pity the fools who listen to my chemical romance whilst cutting fantasy novels into their forearms. Not that i'd EVER resort to that exaggeration but you get what i'm saying. There are PLENTY of other ways to get rid of assumed misplaced feelings. P-L-E-N-T-Y. but the one obvious way to fuse an emotion is by a simple conversation/confession hour. People need someone to listen to them during their times of helplessness..maybe they just need some empathy so that they don't feel like the wounded victim. . . Hmm....I really dont know what else to say. I feel like if i say anything more i'll start talking out of my ass. SO i bid everyone farewell for tonight. Goodnight my lovelies!!