five hours and four minutes

here's hoping that this year is better than all those that came before it

comfort

it drives me crazy that people think i don't know that there are repercussions that from self-injury. i know. it settles in deeper everyday. i wish they knew that our scars isolate us enough. people point them out all the time - as if i don't know that it's not a good thing.
i hid them all for the longest time, mostly because i didn't want anyone to know how different i was. my friends were relatively functional, and it just didn't seem like there was a place for me and my masochism. there was no place for those things, there shouldn't be because they shouldn't need a place to be. they shouldn't be there.
every time some gives me that look, i know. i know they don't know what to say, but what i don't understand is why they think they need to say something. since when did the world start caring? even more, since when did life become a place where you can expect to be "comfortable"? maybe it's time for everyone to take a step back and accept that there are going to be some really uncomfortable things in our lives and that maybe step one is not asking when you really don't want to know the answer -- it's only going to make you feel more uncomfortable.
i may never be comfortable with what i've done to myself and in some regards continue to do. i may one day regret what will be my past, and there's a good chance i will because i'm not proud. but i don't need to be reminded that what i've done has altered the rest of my life. maybe what matters is that i'll have a "rest of my life" to find out.