Idle Hands

Today I received a text from Nemesis, asking me if I was ok. I am not. We met up and skyped for a few minutes. We decided to stop talking today.

Idle hands are the Devil's workshop, as they say. And yesterday my hands were extremely idle. I pretty much used them to torture myself over every little thing that could bug me. Everything that could hurt about the Viking, I took. Everything that could hurt me about Nemesis, I kept. Everything that I hated about me, I did, thought, chewed and swallowed. And then, no vent, no escape, no buffer, no release. Up to a moment when I probably wouldn't have cared about anything anymore, that lasted until today, for now, and consumed every possible chance of letting all that crap go.

I hate it that I did this to myself. I am not like this, and I sure as hell don't want to.

Today Nemesis wanted to cheer me up a little, and I didn't let her; I brought her down with me. And now I am relieved, because I hate me enough for that. Enough to feel something, at last. Even if it is the sickening feeling of contempt and loathing towards myself.

I'm really sorry, Nemesis. You didn't deserve that. If anybody can understand me now, that's you.